


Good Intentions

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Drug Use, Explicit Language, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Spoilers, Threesome, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-11
Updated: 2009-08-01
Packaged: 2018-09-30 23:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 105,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10175330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: LVHPLM SLASH AU! Dark!Harry. Betrayed and imprisoned after Voldemort's defeat, Harry makes a wish to redo the War. A new world offers different challenges and choices. Use subtle manipulations from the shadows or brute displays of frightening power?





	1. Prologue: Adaptations

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or co. they are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros and her publishing co. They own the characters, I own this particular plot. I’m not making any money off of this, no malice intended, no infringement intended and so on etc. Also, if this is similar to any other fanfics, it was not intentional. As per usual, any original characters, theories about magic and anything not already known to JKR’s HP world or general fandom is mine. Please ask before borrowing.

**Warnings:** Dark possibly Evil!Harry, Graphic Sex, Torture, Gore, Death, Drugs, Language, and **SLASH** , which for the uninitiated is male on male sex! **Very much AU!!**

**If any of the above squick you, please save me and everyone else a flaming review and hit the back button and find something better suited to your tastes. No one’s forcing you to read this, if you don’t like it then don’t read it!**

**Spoiler Alert:** This story was written to be **HBP compatible**. Now you can also expect to see several spoilers from **DH**. If you have not finished the series and do not want to see spoilers from it, I suggest you hit the back button and come back after you’ve finished it. 

**Genre** : Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, Definitely AU

**Pairing:** HP/LV, HP/LM, LV/HP/LM (Yes, you read that correctly, a threesome)

**Synopsis:** LV/HP, LM/HP, LV/HP/LM. SLASH AU! Betrayed by the Wizarding World after defeating Voldemort, Harry makes a wish and wakes to find himself in an Alternate Universe during Voldemort's first rise to power. Vowing to destroy his enemy by any and all means possible, Harry finds an ally in a Seer who makes him an offer he can't refuse. They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions…too bad no one told Harry that!

A/N: At last, a reposted version to fix inconsistencies!

Text Formatting:   
‘Character thoughts’  
 **Emphasis, Article Heading**  
 _Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_  
\- _Parseltongue_ -

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**Good Intentions  
By: SheWolfe7**

 

Prologue:  
Adaptations

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**Tartarus Pit  
Azkaban, The North Sea  
Thursday the 31st of December XXXX  
11:02 PM**

It was a bleak night. The cold wind swept through the stone monolith of Azkaban seemingly sucking out the warmth of those imprisoned and guarding the desolate Wizarding Prison. Little wonder the Dementors had enjoyed their role here as both guard and tormentor. 

In a small cell in the bowels of the prison sat the former Savior of the Wizarding World, one Harry James Potter. He was now known more commonly in the Wizarding World as the Diablo and it was in the days after vanquishing Voldemort that he too had become a monster in the eyes of the Wizarding World. He had not been the slightest bit surprised and truly, if he hadn’t been so tired he might have been able to cut all ties in the Wizarding World and faded back into the safety and normality of the Muggle World. It was to his surprise that the Ministry had moved so quickly and barely a week after defeating Voldemort, Harry found himself thrown into a cell in Azkaban’s infamous Tartarus Pit. 

The Tartarus Pit held the most dangerous or demented Wizards and Witches. Dug miles below the small island Azkaban had been built upon, the Pit was dark and numbingly cold. Even the Spartans would have objected to the living conditions of the Tartarus Pit. The cells had been warded to keep in a miniscule of heat, barely a candle flame of lighting, and no sound at all. It was almost like a sensory deprivation chamber and there could be no doubts why those sentenced here rarely lived beyond six months. 

Harry had lost all track of time, had given up counting the days and there were days where even he wasn’t sure if he was alive and why he was. Each individual cell was warded to keep its prisoner from using their magic outwardly but to Harry’s amazement; it did nothing to prevent the magic from working amazing changes to the prisoner. Though he had no mirror, Harry knew intrinsically that he had greatly changed in his months here. 

The cold, which seeped in from the very stones of the prison had become less biting. His senses had strengthened, allowing him to somehow keep a grasp on his sanity and somehow his magic had altered his body, allowing him to live for weeks on the meager meals. Trapped in this dark hellhole, he could conceivably live for centuries depending on how long his magic reserves would last and considering how little activity he had, it was perpetually replenished within hours of use. 

Decades, possibly centuries had passed and more spent living like this was not the kind of life Harry wanted to live. Even death would be more preferable than this pathetic existence. Wishing for what might have been the millionth time since he’d been imprisoned, Harry wished fervently for freedom from this hellhole and if he could do it all over again, he swore he would do it differently. He would be wiser for one, be as merciless as his enemies and, with his heart twisting with dulled agony, he would do it all alone this time. He would not make a target of his friends or loved ones, nor would he allow anyone to get too close and possibly betray him again. 

The flash of light that surrounded him barely a heartbeat after his wish should have startled him but Harry was beyond surprise, he welcomed the light into his very being. Life…Death…it did not matter what this light brought, so long as he could be free of this pitiful existence.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

Seconds or eons could have passed between his last moment of consciousness to this next, but when Harry woke he found himself sprawled on his stomach on the banks of a small creek. The scent of fresh grass clippings mingled with birdsong and the gentle gurgling of the creek sent a shot of euphoria through his chest. He was free! Opening his eyes carefully, he was nearly blinded by the ambient light of the outdoors. It took several moments before he became adjusted to it and a few more before he could work up to standing.

Moving sluggishly, Harry took a few steps down to the creek and peered at his reflection with shock. His raven black hair had lightened to a pale ash blond, his emerald green eyes had lightened to an eerie silver, and his skin had become paler than he remembered. The few steps he had taken had alerted him to the fact that even his body moved differently and upon closer examination, it definitely **looked** different too. He had never been tall and the kindest description of his body was lithe and whipcord. Very little had changed except two very shocking alterations, firstly his facial structure was rather effeminate and…he looked to be about twelve or thirteen! 

It was both a wonderful and terrible situation he now found himself in. On one hand he was free, wiser and stronger, and more than ready to make something of this new life and, on the other, he had no idea where or **when** he was and what the current state of the world was. Still the good easily outweighed the bad so he really had no reason to complain.

Harry tossed his head back and laughed himself hoarse; ah…it was good to hope again!

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**Torres Villa  
Luarca, Asturias  
Thursday the 27th of June 1974  
2:14 PM**

Evaristo Narciso Torres was an influential Wizard and the third son of Estavan Cleto Torres, who was the Sovereign Prince of Wizarding Asturias. The Torres Family had ruled the _Regnum Astorum_ (Kingdom of Asturias) for centuries before and after the fall of Muggle Spain. Asturias had been the Wizarding bastion during the dangerous years when the Muggles hunted Witchcraft and it had been the port of departure when resettlement was at last viable. 

Though Asturias and the Spanish Ministry of Magic operated fully independently of each other, rumor had it that the Spanish Ministry of Magic often sought the opinion of the ruling Sovereign Prince when it came down to weighty decisions, though it was by no means necessary. No Sovereign Prince of Asturias had bent their knee to the other rulers of the magical princedoms or kingdoms that had risen and fallen with the spread of Muggles and the ravages of time. Asturias and its rulers had withstood the tumultuous political changes around their country and the Torres Family as a whole was numbered among the foremost Pureblooded Families in all of Europe, and was the oldest unbroken Pureblooded Family in all of Spain. 

Unlike some Pureblooded Families, the Torres’ often married foreign Wizards and Witches, keeping their bloodlines pure and diverse. Evaristo was half-Spanish and half-Russian, along with his two elder brothers Apolinar and Pascual. Their twin half-sisters Elvira and Eloisa, born of their father’s second marriage, were half-Spanish and half-Italian. Apolinar, his oldest brother, had married a Spanish Witch from Barcelona while Pascual had married a dark haired Frenchman, who was cousin to the current Queen of France and currently third in line to the French Throne. 

Much to his father’s dismay and his brothers’ amusement, Evaristo was single and not seeking a potential spouse. Even their twin sisters Eloisa and Elvira were engaged to be married in the following spring, a fact which both pleased their father and vexed him. Evaristo was in no great rush to find a spouse and though his father had tolerated his bachelorhood in silence for several years, he was quite determined to see his third son happily married. 

The tolerance, Evaristo knew, was due to the fact that he was a powerful Seer. As was often the case with Seers, they were very selective about whom they chose as spouses or even if they took a spouse. Often times it all came down to choosing whether it was wise to pass on such a fickle Gift. Before his birth, it had been some three hundred years since a Torres blossomed with the Seer’s Gift and depending on if he married, it could either increase or decrease the odds of his own offspring receiving and developing the ability to become a Seer. 

In Evaristo’s case, his bachelorhood was due to a lack of interest in taking a spouse. Not that he was a virgin by any means, he had had plenty of liaisons over the years but none of them had spawned a long-standing relationship as he had intended. He would have an Heir most certainly but it would not be one born of his flesh and seed. No, his son and Heir had most likely just arrived. While Evaristo retrieved his chosen Heir, his most trusted servants would begin setting in motion the arrangements he had long ago planned for this day. Had this been a normal situation, he would have spoken to his father and Apolinar before invoking a Blood Adoption but time was of the essence and he could explain why he had chosen his Heir to them later just as well as if he had spoken to them before he left.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

Harry had not gotten far before he happened to come upon Evaristo, who had been patiently awaiting his arrival in the shade of a tree. Taking in the tall, olive skinned man with oddly out of place blond hair and piercing storm gray eyes, Harry almost passed him by before Evaristo spoke.

“Your skin will burn if you stay out in the sun much longer, though I understand perfectly why you enjoy the pounding of the sun’s rays after so long underground.” 

Harry froze eyes widening and he blurted out as thoughtlessly as a child would, “How did you know that?!” 

Evaristo smiled, “I know many things about you but none of that is important. This is not the same place you were from and most definitely, this is not the same time you left. Only you will know how similar these two worlds are but one thing that is similar is that you will end up in an orphanage if you are found wandering aimlessly with no identification or parents.” 

“And what exactly are you offering?” Harry asked suspiciously. 

Evaristo chuckled at his suspicion. “I only offer what is fated to be. You see, I am a Seer and I’ve known of your arrival for nearly a decade. What you wish to do, you will need aid and I am from a Family that has the power to allow you to learn anything you so desire and make all the connections you should need.” 

“And you are?” 

“Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten my manners in my joy at your arrival. I am Evaristo Narciso Torres, third son of Estavan Cleto Torres who is better known as the Sovereign Prince of Asturias.” Evaristo explained with a small smile. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed calculatingly, the Torres Family had more than enough connections and enough of a reputation that it was almost a guarantee that Voldemort would be intrigued by anyone who claimed relation to the Family. Pausing to examine the older man, Harry eyed him thoughtfully as small, barely noticeable wisps of his own magic cautiously unfurled and touched the other man. Deeming Evaristo to be speaking honestly, Harry nodded slowly to himself. This was a good start yes, with an ally like this standing at his back he was certain he could do whatever was necessary here in this world and this time. (1)

“Excellent,” Evaristo breathed as Harry came closer. “It is fortunate that Hogwarts has just let out for the summer, you will need the time to acquaint yourself with this world. I have the papers and the Potion waiting at my home; will you become my son and Heir?” 

“Yes,” 

Evaristo grinned, “Good, let us go to my home then and we may begin.”

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**Torres Villa  
Luarca, Asturias  
Wednesday the 3rd of July 1974  
9:29 AM**

As he had expected, his father Estavan and his brother Apolinar stormed onto the small veranda he ate most his meals at when the weather was agreeable. His son was still asleep as most teenagers would rather be and Evaristo preferred to have most of this conversation finished before his son arrived, sleepy-eyed to have his breakfast. 

“Evaristo Narciso Andrei Torres!” bellowed his father, in quite the rage. “Is this true?”

A copy of _The Spanish Navigator_ landed on his fortunately empty plate. There on the front page of the Spanish newspaper was an announcement that he had not only Adopted a child from a small orphanage near Zafra, but had named his newly adopted son Heir to his portion of the Torres fortune, which was not a modest sum. It was surely shocking but no doubt what horrified his father and brother was the fact that it had been a **Muggle** orphanage. 

“It’s true,” Evaristo commented, motioning for his father and brother to sit as he poured them some morning tea. “I will, of course, correct them eventually about the current facts known about my son, but at the moment it is of no importance what they think, only that they know I have a son and heir.” 

Apolinar sighed with relief. “He’s not a Mudblood then?” 

“His blood has little importance regarding my decision, though you may rest assured that he possessed already distinguished Pureblood ties before he received my own formidable addition. I will assure you both, I know what I’m doing. He’s a charming child, I’m sure you both will enjoy spending time with him; he’s quite intelligent and very powerful for his age. I must admit father, I am a bachelor because I have no interest in having a child of my own. You see, I have been waiting over a decade for his arrival and now that he is here, I am proud to say I’m overjoyed that I waited.” Evaristo explained, smiling happily. 

Estavan frowned, “What is it about this child Evaristo?” 

“Everything,” Evaristo replied before launching into a more detailed explanation of his reasons, who and what Harry had been in his world and time and how Harry’s plans now would further advance their Family, no matter the outcome. “…but besides all of that, he is more than what I could have hoped for in a child born of my own flesh.”

“I begin to understand your reasoning but I think I will reserve judgment until I meet my nephew.” Apolinar replied slowly. 

Evaristo nodded agreeably. “Understandable, he will be arriving in a few minutes.” 

Seven minutes later, the glass door opened and a young teen stepped onto the veranda. He still had pale ash blond hair, his skin had darkened a bit to a pale sun-kissed gold, and as he drew nearer they noticed he had Evaristo’s storm gray eyes. 

“I would like to present my son and heir, Anastas Evaristo Rafael Torres.” Evaristo introduced, his voice tinged with a mixture of pride and happiness. 

Anastas paused for a moment, eyeing the two new additions. The older man had graying black hair and cobalt blue eyes while the other, who obviously was Evaristo’s brother, had black hair like their father combined with the gray eyes both brother’s had received from their Russian mother. Both were just as tall as Evaristo, he guessed, though the brother’s shoulders were a bit broader and the father had a slight paunch. 

Evaristo quickly made introductions, “Anastas this is your Grandfather Estavan and your Uncle Apolinar.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Anastas replied, deciding to be as formal as possible. 

Estavan looked at him thoughtfully. “The pleasure is mine Anastas, welcome to the family.” 

“Yes,” Apolinar seconded, relaxing. “Welcome to the family, Nephew.” 

“Thank you,” Anastas replied, mentally cheering at having been accepted into the family by the Patriarch and the eventual Patriarch. If he could gain the acknowledgement of the remaining members of the Family, he would be well on his way especially as his father had considerable influence on the others. Which made sense, who didn’t heed the warnings of a Seer?

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

The weeks leading up to the start of the school year went by smoothly. Though shocked, the rest of the family welcomed him after noticing the approval of both Estavan and Apolinar. His father was a great help, answering any questions he had and purchasing a veritable mountain of books on varying subjects for him to study, as well as hiring tutors.

Several things were vastly different in this world. For one, he would never exist as there was no Lily Evans to speak of and second of all, he had traveled into the past and would be schooling with the Marauders and Snape. He’d noticed that most major events in both worlds had occurred, what was different were the key people involved. 

Slytherin had still left, but not until after he and Helga Hufflepuff had argued about the wisdom in allowing Mudbloods to attend the school. Nicholas Flamel had still created his Philosopher Stone but had died during the war with Grindelwald. Dumbledore had still defeated Grindelwald but had only acted after his brother Aberforth had nearly died after an attack occurred in Paris.

The last War had also destroyed most of the Dark Creatures, significantly lowering the numbers of Werewolves and Vampires, while completely eradicating the Giants and Dementors. Remus Lupin, as far as he was able to tell, was completely human and there was no Shrieking Shack or Whomping Willow. 

Then there was the sudden increase or decrease in the children of Families he had personally known. Lucius Malfoy, no longer an only child, now had an older brother named Cassius and was currently the same age as Snape and the Marauders. Andromeda Black had not married a Muggle and instead was married to Cassius Malfoy. If a Draco Malfoy was born, it would be to these two as Narcissa Black had not been born and thus, would never be married to Lucius. James Potter had two younger siblings, a sister named Hyacinth who was to start her Third Year and a brother named Richard who would start his First Year in the fall. Snape too had a younger sibling, his brother Manuel was a year younger and in Ravenclaw. Anastas had also discovered that their Muggle father Tobias had died barely six months after Manuel’s birth. Eileen remarried Adrian Macmillan two years after her first husband’s death and had another three children with him, all girls. 

If that hadn’t been bizarre or confusing enough, Anastas had become even more confused when he learned about the differences in the adults he had known. Dumbledore was happily married to Rhys Prewitt, a former Healer at St. Mungo’s though he had long ago taken up residence as the terror of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Anastas had known of his former Headmaster’s preference and although there was no stigma in such pairings in the world he had left behind, that it was so prevalent in this world was certainly eye opening. It spurred him to do more research about the current populace of the Wizarding World, along with the current customs. Through a combination of genetic and societal factors, most Wizarding populations were 75:25 in favor of males, which had necessitated a variety of Potions, complicated magical rituals, or specialized Transfiguration techniques that allowed male couples to have children together. 

After he had recovered from that shock, he returned to his research on Dumbledore and discovered that he had three children. Myrddin, Azalea, and Flavius Dumbledore had all been exceptionally powerful and had gone on to have several children of their own. Hagrid did not exist in this world and Madam Pomfrey was still working at St. Mungo’s. The DADA position was still cursed as no teacher ever stayed on longer than a year. Professor Vector now taught Ancient Runes while Professor Babbling taught Arithmancy, and Filch was now Groundskeeper while Arabella Figg was caretaker. 

Anastas had decided wisely to quit before his migraine grew any worse and stopped checking to compare the people he had known, personally or heard of, with those in this universe. It was getting to be far too confusing. Moving on with his studies, he had begun to learn more about Wizarding History, which had confused and flummoxed him plenty of times, followed by studying school texts. The huge leap in Potions had astounded him; apparently Dumbledore had been a very, very busy man after the war with Grindelwald. A few new Transfiguration techniques had him occupied for several nights as he caught up on the subject. 

By the time he received his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, he was well caught up on the differences in this alternate universe and prepared to face them.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**Diagon Alley, London, UK  
Thursday the 25th of August 1974  
10:00 AM**

Anastas just barely managed to stay on his feet as they arrived in Diagon Alley via Portkey. Evaristo grabbed his elbow, steadying him as he tucked the Portkey back into his pocket. Stepping away from the designated Portkey Arrival Zone, the two looked around with interest. Though Diagon Alley looked different, Anastas was pleased enough to be outside of the Villa for the first time since he had arrived in this world. That wasn’t to say that he had only had his father for company. Many close and distant members of the Torres Family had paid them a social call and his grandfather had even arranged for the much lauded Calogero Carrara to create a wardrobe for his new grandson. 

All of Spain was abuzz with anticipation to see the new Torres Heir but Evaristo had been quite protective of his son and had easily kept him out of the prying eyes of the media. Today would mark his first foray into the public and it was bound to be a memorable one. 

Once they had orientated themselves, Evaristo found himself being hailed by an old acquaintance of his, one that surprised Anastas a great deal. Orion Black was an older but equally handsome version of his eldest son, Sirius Black. 

“…my son Anastas.” Evaristo introduced, turning to glance at his son. 

Anastas quickly jolted out of his thoughts and graced the equally powerful man with a quick nod. “Mr. Black, I am honored to meet you.” 

Calculating gray eyes studied him, weighing his value. “The honor is mine, Anastas.” 

Evaristo gently interceded before things could become too…complicated. “Where are your sons Orion?” 

“My eldest is no doubt cavorting with his Gryffindor friends and Regulus is somewhere afoot. He’s taken a liking to Prince’s second son, Manuel. Better a Ravenclaw than a Mudblood loving Gryffindor any day!” Orion grumbled irritably. 

“So true,” Evaristo replied nodding agreeably. “It is a shame your son is not present, I would have liked to introduce Anastas to Regulus. My son is more intelligent and ambitious than a child sired of my flesh could hope to be.” 

Orion looked interested. “Is that so?” 

“The tutors could barely keep up with him this summer,” Evaristo exclaimed with pride. “He’s already half-way through Sixth Year Curriculum.” 

“Impressive,” commented Orion, looking more intrigued. “You should join us for dinner on Saturday; we’re having a small gathering. I’m sure Walburga would be pleased to see you again and Anastas could meet some of the other children his age.” 

Evaristo smiled with pleasure, “You may be certain to expect us then, seven o’clock as usual?” 

“Come at six, we will dine at seven but I’m sure you would like to re-acquaint yourself with the others.” Orion replied before taking his leave. 

Anastas frowned thoughtfully. “He’s a cautious man.” 

“He’s waiting much like the rest of the Wizarding World,” replied Evaristo as he led the way through the streets. 

“Waiting for what?” 

His father tossed him a sly smile over his shoulder. “They’re waiting to see who you are and why I’ve adopted you, of course. Orion has a hint now, I’ve told him with a great deal of fatherly pride that you are very intelligent and powerful. We’ll see what comes of it.” 

Anastas chuckled and asked, “How soon until a nosy reporter discovers the papers at the orphanage?” 

“A few hours from now, everyone will know by dinner tonight.” 

Shaking his head slightly, Anastas dutifully followed his father to Gringotts. The Goblins were due for quite the surprise indeed! It wasn’t often after all when a Wizard of his father’s status asked for a Heritage Evaluation for his newly adopted son. Anastas knew it was his own strange luck that led to the discovery that his magic had not turned him into a stranger as he had originally thought. As his father had said, perhaps his magic had only worn away the façade he had been born with and revealed his true self. He was no longer a Potter but what he was no doubt would surprise quite a few people. 

Jacob Lund had been one of the wealthiest Purebloods in living memory and his only child Phoebe had been coveted and courted by some of the most powerful and influential Pureblooded men in the Wizarding World. Phoebe had lacked for nothing and perhaps that was what had made finding her a spouse as difficult as it had ended up being. After a few months she have left of her own accord, declaring in a bold letter that she was going to find someone worthy of her on her own and for her father not to worry. Shocked at the boldness of his only child, Jacob had glumly waited but the years passed and he never saw his daughter again. Occasionally he heard rumors of a woman matching his daughter’s description passing through towns in France but she was always gone by the time he investigated the rumors. The final rumor he had heard before his death was that she had been spotted wandering in Italy with a very young toddler who also shared her pale hair. 

A Heritage Revealing Potion, created with a blood sample taken before his Adoption by Evaristo, had unmasked his ancestry but he could only guess at what events had lead to his family moving to Britain. Phoebe Lund had clearly had a child with Columbe Focalor, the youngest son of an infamous Wizarding family which regularly married into Veela and Harpy conclaves. There was little doubt why she had never returned to her father for fear of becoming disinherited by the traditional Wizard. 

Phoebe and Columbe’s son Corvus Focalor, had somehow become Corbin Evans, who had then married and had children with one Eglantine Teague. As no records of a magical education existed, Anastas guessed that Corbin had been a Squib, a theory his father Evaristo had seconded. His grandfather Florian had been the only surviving child of Corbin and Eglantine (yet another Squib) and had married Gillian Trent who had given birth to his aunt and mother. 

Much to his amusement, Anastas learned that he was not a Half-Blood as many people had thought. Evaristo had explained that while most Squibs were either disowned or largely ignored by their birth families, they often married another Squib or married a Squib descendant due to a Magical curse that all but the oldest Pureblood Families had forgotten existed. Thus somewhere around half the ‘Mudbloods’ accepted into Magical Schools did not carry any Muggle blood at all, merely Wizarding blood that had long gone dormant for some unforeseen reason. It was very likely that due to the War, no one had thought to research his mother’s family and thus the Lund legacy had been unclaimed and his mother labeled as a brilliant Muggleborn. How was that for irony?

In this world, everything had fallen out nearly the same except his Grandfather Florian had been an up and coming lawyer who had spent years in a coma after a car accident. He had died a few hours after Anastas’ arrival, something which his father seemed to expect. Put together, these strange events led to Anastas being the only Lund Heir in existence in this universe. (2) While his Adoption had magically and physically erased all signs of his biological father, replacing them with his Adopted father’s genes, his mother’s genes remained and clearly identified him as a Lund descendant. 

The Goblins ran the Heritage Evaluation grumbling at the pointlessness of it, until his blood and magic matched him positively as a Lund. Following that, the Goblins had wisely become more polite as they began to rush about finding records of the Lund Vaults worldwide and Jacob Lund’s Will. 

Three hours later Evaristo and Anastas left Gringotts, the former now officially the Executor of the Lund fortune until Anastas reached his majority at age seventeen. Anastas was pleased he had a fortune all of his own at his disposal which would be more than useful in the following years. The only minor inconvenience would be the paperwork necessary to adhere to his ancestor’s only request: that he bear the Lund name. By Monday he would be Anastas Evaristo Rafael Lund-Torres and what a mouthful that would be! 

With most of their business taken care of, father and son finished their shopping and returned home well before the evening papers arrived, bearing yet another startling discovery for the eager Wizarding public.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**12 Grimmauld Place, London, UK  
Saturday the 27th of August 1974  
5:50 PM**

Evaristo hummed softly as he knocked on the door of the Black residence. Beside him, Anastas marveled at the house, which looked nothing like the decrepit shadow he had seen in his time. Before he could wonder at what the interior would look like, the door was opened by a sulking Kreacher. 

“Masters be most welcome in the House of Black,” Kreacher greeted bowing as he held the door open. 

They entered and shed their cloaks giving them absently to one of the other House Elves. Kreacher directed them to the Drawing room, where everyone else would be waiting for them. Their host rose at their arrival and quickly made introductions to the rest of the guests. 

As he had expected, most of the Blacks or former Blacks and their spouses were present. Orion’s older sister Lucretia and her family were present, along with both his parents, and his in-laws. Alphard Black was alone, as he was a bachelor while both of Cygnus’ daughters were present with their respective husbands, Bellatrix with her husband Rodolphus Lestrange and Andromeda with Cassius Malfoy. Abraxas Malfoy, Cassius and Lucius’s father, was present as was the youngest Malfoy. Adrian Macmillian and Eileen Prince were also present with their children. Rupert Crabbe and Irving Goyle along with their spouses and children were in attendance along with Sigourney McPherson, who may eventually become Sigourney Zabini depending on how this universe differed. Daniel Rosier and Edward Avery with their families rounded out the group Families present at this particular gathering. The fact that many of them would later become Voldemort’s followers was quite the interesting clue. (3)

Once the introductions finished, Orion shot his old friend a lingering look. “You seem to have made an exemplary choice in heir, my friend.” 

“Are you referring to Anastas’ heritage or his bloodlines?” Evaristo asked as he took a seat, motioning for Anastas to sit beside him. 

Abraxas Malfoy snorted, “Both.” 

Evaristo merely smiled and spread his hands out in a harmless gesture. “The Seer’s Gift is ever benevolent.” 

“A wise person waits for an opportunity to present itself and then compromises upon it,” Sigourney agreed, her voice melodious. 

“I admit my father was getting most impatient but even he approves of my son and Apolinar,” Evaristo rolled his eyes, “I think at times that if he had not married Isabella and did not already have two sons of his own, he would have happily declared Anastas his Heir. They get along famously, no doubt because of their keen minds.” 

Anastas smiled slightly and shot an amused look at his father, “Not everyone is as willing to let Fate carry them where it would father. Uncle and I appreciate a well thought out strategy.” 

“That is true enough Anastas, though you will forgive me in advance the next time I excuse myself when Apolinar and you decide to play chess. Four, no my pardon, **five** hours of playing chess is more than I can endure silently. Though I admit that seeing the consternation on my oldest brother’s face almost makes up for the tediousness of being a spectator.” 

Orion nearly gaped but caught himself. “Young Anastas has been able to defeat your brother in chess?!” 

Evaristo nodded, grinning. “Oh yes, they play twice a week and Anastas has only lost three of the twenty games they’ve played so far. My son has a most brilliant mind.” 

“Orion said he was quite advanced in his studies, what Year is he on?” 

Anastas smiled and answered, “I’m in the middle of Sixth Year studies or so father tells me. We are waiting for a new Transfiguration tutor; I have hopelessly outpaced the one I currently have at the moment. Human Transfiguration is quite simple, once one understands the basics.” 

There was a moment of silence as everyone absorbed the idle boast of an adolescent. 

Orion nodded thoughtfully. “There is little doubt why your brother is so envious. Anastas is quite an intelligent child and you did not have to endure the years of raising him from a babe.” 

Evaristo looked slightly wistful. “It would not have been a horrible ordeal but it was a matter of timing and I knew it would be more convenient this way.” 

“It was better this way father; imagine what I would have done with the Lund fortune if I had been younger. I imagine I would have bought out Honeydukes and Flourish and Blotts on a regular basis.” Anastas teased, lightening the mood. 

“I already fear what you’re planning on buying with it, I will have to build a new library at the rate you are devouring books.” 

“I am a firm believer in, _De inimico non loquaris sed cogites_.” Anastas quoted simply. (Don’t wish ill for your enemy; plan it) 

Evaristo shook his head, bemused. “As long as you remember _Sensus, non aetas, invenit sapientem_ I’ll not begrudge you your books.” (Good sense, not age, brings wisdom) 

Anastas chuckled softly in response. 

Adrian Macmillian frowned in confusion. “I would have thought Evaristo would be in charge of the Lund fortune.” 

“Oh I am but I have enough money and property of my own to manage. I will oversee what he does but largely I will let Anastas do as he wishes with his ancestor’s money. It should be amusing to see what he decides to do with it all.” Evaristo said dismissively as though the rumored five hundred million Galleon fortune was mere pocket change. 

The conversation continued from there, moving onto other interesting bits of gossip or news. Dinner was held in a grand Dining Room and they feasted on salad with a Balsamic vinaigrette, grilled Marlin filets, a light vegetable stew, herb crusted roast lamb chops, and fresh slices of blackberry and elderberry pie served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. While the adults adjourned into separate rooms for their after dinner cocktails, their children were ushered into the gardens at the back of the house. It was there where Anastas became better acquainted with the other children and he found that Lucius and, he loathed to say it, Severus were very interested in him. 

“Were you surprised when you found out you were the Heir to the Lund Fortune?” Evan Rosier asked curiously. 

Anastas shrugged. “Not particularly, my father is a Seer after all and he did say that we would have an interesting time at Gringotts.” 

Lucius studied him with a keen eye, “Those robes, who designed them?” 

“These? They’re Calogero Carrara. Grandfather had Carrara’s entire staff Port-Keyed to the Villa to outfit my wardrobe.” 

Regulus frowned, “Then why were you in Diagon Alley on Thursday? Father said he met you there.” 

“Father said it would be better if we went to Diagon Alley to get my school supplies rather than going to the Wizarding District in Madrid.” 

“What Year are you joining?” Severus asked simply. 

“Fourth Year, since the school doesn’t know how advanced I am in my studies. I don’t mind though.” Anastas answered with a shrug. 

Manuel observed him for a few minutes. “What House do you think you’ll be Sorted into?” 

“Ravenclaw, I’d guess.” Evan piped out. 

“Slytherin.” Severus said with assurance. 

Anastas smiled slightly. “Probably Slytherin, Uncle Apolinar says I’ve a mind that would make Salazar proud.” 

The others nodded and Regulus suggested a game of Quidditch to liven up the rather boring evening. Anastas was rather disappointed at the speed of the Nimbus 1000 but hid it well. Sometimes it was a shame he had gone back in time opposed to going forward. Oh well…

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**Colchester Castle, Wales  
Sunday the 28th of August 1974  
2:10 AM**

Voldemort looked up from the book he had been pursuing when he heard a rap on the door. “Enter.” 

The door swung open and Cassius Malfoy strode into the room. “My Lord,” 

“Cassius, what brings you here so early in the morning?” Voldemort asked, motioning for the other man to sit across from him. 

“I was invited by my father-in-law to join them for a small gathering. I was quite surprised to find out that Orion had also invited his old friend Evaristo Torres.” 

Voldemort’s eyebrows rose with interest. “The third son of the Asturia’s Sovereign Prince, yes, the Seer, I remember. What did you learn?” 

“Have you read the papers about his son?” 

“No, I have only just recently returned from a trip to Greece.” Voldemort replied slowly. “I did not know Torres was married.” (4) 

Cassius shook his head, “He’s not. No, he Adopted a boy from a Muggle Orphanage in late June. It turns out that his son, Anastas Torres, is actually the last descendant of Jacob Lund and has inherited the fortune. His father legally is the Executor until his son reaches his majority but he just admitted today that he allows Anastas full control over the fortune and may do with it as he wishes.” 

Voldemort caught on, “I see, young Anastas could prove to be very beneficial to the cause.” 

“He’s highly advanced for his age, My Lord. He’s already in the middle of Sixth Year studies and Lucius has informed me that they will be in the same Year. Torres seems to indulge his son’s interest, supposedly he’s read nearly every book in their Library and he’s managed to surpass his tutors even.” 

“This does not quite fit then,” Voldemort replied thoughtfully. “There is no way a child, however intelligent, could have caught up and advanced so quickly. Where did Torres find this child?” 

Cassius shook his head. “I don’t know but Evaristo regaled us with a story about how his older brother Apolinar envies him for his Heir. The Torres Family is a prestigious family and doubly crafty as any lone Slytherin.” 

“He bears watching but he is young yet, we will see how he grows first Cassius. You have my thanks for your information and will be suitably rewarded for it.” 

“It is little trouble, My Lord.” 

Voldemort just nodded as he dismissed the Malfoy Heir, thoughts turning as he considered the puzzle that Cassius had just presented him with. Evaristo Torres was an acknowledged Seer with high talent for Divination and Prophecy. Anastas Torres was more intelligent than a child his age ought to be and both of them had forged a Bond with the other that was nearly unbreakable. 

The question now was why? What did they each have to gain from such an arrangement? Was there even suspicious activity behind this sudden Adoption?

His book forgotten, Voldemort spent the rest of the hours leading up to sunrise thinking and formulating possible plans to use Anastas Torres or Evaristo Torres to his advantage.

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Notes:

(1)- Despite Harry’s Azkaban worries about forming attachments, he is not worried about what may happen to the Torres Family. They are enough of a force to be reckoned with that he believes even Voldemort would not challenge them recklessly. Thus, in his mind, they are a good ally because they have enough sway and power to simply withstand anything Voldemort might throw at them. 

(2)- In this world, it is generally assumed that Anastas is Florian Evans’s son. Anastas is considered to be a Pureblood, as the union that ‘supposedly’ resulted in him was between two Squibs (Corvus and Eglantine, who then had Florian), there’ll be more about his ancestry later.

(3)- The names of the Black (former and current) Family members, is canon (Orion, Walberga, Cygnus etc). I got them from the Harry Potter Lexicon Black Family tree which JK wrote out several months ago.

(4)- Voldemort was completely clueless about the ruckus made over Anastas as he was completely out of reach while in Greece. When he came back, no one had told him yet as he values his privacy and doesn’t like having his minions constantly underfoot. Why does Cassius have free reign to come and go in his private rooms? You’ll have to wait to find out. 

 

-SheWolfe7   
Original Post Date: (Aug 10, 2006)  
Revision I: (Dec 11, 2008)  
Repost Date: (Dec 31, 2008)


	2. Chapter I: Growth

  
Author's notes: The train ride to Hogwarts, Dumbledore's musings, Voldemort's plans, the mystery of the Infamous Focalor Hellion and Boggarts- a lesson on Anastas's fears.   


* * *

A/N: Reposted to fix inconsistencies.

Thanks go out to my Beta Bre, who takes the time to correct all my horrible grammatical mistakes! This story is readable thanks to her. -winks- 

Text Formatting:   
‘Character thoughts’  
 **Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info**  
 _Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_  
\- _Parseltongue_ -

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**Good Intentions  
By: SheWolfe7**

**Chapter I: Growth**

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**Erasmus Beasley Station  
Diagon Alley, London  
Saturday the 31st of August 1974  
10:30 AM**

It was a bright, humid day and the air was filled with noise as parents ushered their children to the train station. Excited children rushed to and fro while their exasperated parents levitated school trunks and carried pet cages. Wizards and Witches spilled out of the nearby Floo Station to the left of the train station. The fenced pasture across from the train station was filled with carriages pulled by magnificent winged horses. A metal roofed stable was situated in the middle of the huge pasture. Decorative bushes divided the arrival and take off lanes from the idling lanes. 

Heads turned as a large shadow passed over the pedestrians on the ground. A carriage bearing the white and azure crest of Asturias was pulled by an eight horse team of Granians. The carriage landed without the slightest difficulty, the team of horses trotting regally along the arrival lane and crossing over to an unloading lane. Coming to an immediate halt in front of a vine covered wrought iron arch, the carriage door swung open triggering a set of elegant metal stairs to form from the bottom of the carriage to the ground. By now nearly everyone in the vicinity was watching with bated breath. This would be the first public outing of the Lund-Torres heir since the recent revelations earlier in the week. 

To the surprise of many Estavan Torres, the Sovereign Prince of Asturias, stepped out of the carriage. Dressed in elegantly cut charcoal robes he gracefully climbed out of the carriage and turned back to offer his hand to his wife Tiziana Torres née Belmonte. The russet haired Witch had a willowy form and dazzling blue eyes. She was dressed in mint green robes which accentuated her dark hair and pale coloring. Upon stepping onto the ground, Estavan tucked her small hand onto the crook of his arm and ushered her to one side leaving room for the other occupants of the carriage to emerge. 

Orion Black and Abraxas Malfoy watched from nearby exchanging calculating looks. It seemed like the Torres Family had decided to show a united front as Anastas made his first appearance since the startling revelations. 

The next to emerge was Apolinar Torres who was followed by his dark haired wife Isabella. Born of the prestigious Castillo Family, Isabella had been a prized heiress with impeccable bloodlines. With her dark brown hair and startling teal colored eyes, she was considered to be one of the greatest beauties to have been born in Spain in the last century. Dressed in sapphire blue and a pale gold, the two were a striking couple. 

Pascual Torres and his husband Olivier Sauvageon were the next to alight from the carriage. Like his younger brother, Pascual shared their mother’s blond hair and had their father’s blue eyes. He also inherited their Russian mother’s pale skin and shorter stature, standing at only 5’9. Olivier had hair so black it had blue highlights, his eyes were a dark forest green and he had a whipcord build. Both wore dark green robes, cut in a simple classic style. 

Evaristo emerged next, wearing a set of robes that were such a dark red they were nearly black. His blond hair had been pulled back into a simple loose braid, his chin length bangs framing his face. Taking out his wand, he waved it at the carriage summoning his son’s school trunk and a bronze owl cage, containing a Short-Eared Owl. Stepping out with a smooth stride, Anastas glanced around with vague amusement as he took a position to the right of his father. The wind caught and toyed with his short pale hair, blowing it into his storm gray eyes. Looking slightly irritated, Anastas tucked his errant bangs behind his ears and straightened his silver robe. 

Estavan graced his newest grandson with a smile as he and his wife led the procession, the rest of the Family falling into position behind him by rank. Apolinar and Isabella followed immediately behind them, with Pascual and Olivier next and Evaristo and Anastas bringing up the rear. Anastas took the cage containing his owl, leaving his father to levitate his trunk. 

The murmuring Wizards and Witches who had been watching parted before them memorizing every detail they witnessed so they could relate the odd spectacle to their friends and family later. Anastas stiffened under the weight of the admiring and dismissive stares, Evaristo gently set his hand on his shoulder reminding his son that he was not alone. 

Several minutes later they had arrived at Platform 5 and once they came to a stop, other Pureblooded Families came forward to reintroduce themselves to the powerful Family. Fortunately since they had arrived a half hour before the Hogwarts Express left, the socializing was cut down to a minimum. Anastas exchanged handshakes with his male relatives and hugs with his female relatives before joining the rest of the students on the train. Lucius and Severus spotted him and offered him a place in their compartment which he gladly accepted. It was vital that he forge ties with future Death Eaters if he wanted to successfully destroy Voldemort’s organization from within, causing the least amount of damage. 

Stewart Crabbe and Nicholas Goyle also sat with them, both Third Years. Evan Rosier was a seemingly cheerful blond haired boy in Fifth Year but Anastas knew better than to trust him. In his world, Evan Rosier had been a consummate charmer who had seduced witches in the Ministry to gain vital information for Voldemort. Timothy Wilkes was a stoic brunette who also happened to be in the same Year as Lucius, Severus and himself. 

Rabastan Lestrange, Meredith Wilkes and Keane Flint were Seventh Years while Lowell Avery, Desdemona MacKay and Circe Joyce were Sixth Years respectively. The six older Slytherins had stopped to introduce themselves to Anastas before claiming the compartment across the hall from them. Audrey Macnair and Caitlin O’Brien were both Fifth Year girls who sat with Theodore Derricks and some first Years. Roland Parkinson, Jamison Tracey and Isolde Pryce were all Second Years and Ethan Sinclair was a Third Year. The four were sharing a compartment with Regulus Black and some Ravenclaws of similar age, namely Manuel Snape and Eleanor McKinnon. 

The barrage of introductions confused Anastas, though he hid it well. There would be enough time to learn all the names and faces of his housemates in the remaining three years of his Hogwarts education. Once they were settled in their compartment and the train on its way, they began a lively discussion about Quidditch and racing brooms. As the hours passed they played a few games of Chess and Exploding Snap to pass the time. Around two thirty they locked their compartment and joined the rest of the students in the Dining Cars for a light lunch and snacks. 

It was sometime after five when they arrived at Hogsmeade Station and it took all of Anastas’s willpower not to gape like a fish at the sight that awaited them. The quaint little village he had known in his world was nothing like the sprawling town that lay before him. The streets were paved with granite stone and the buildings along the main road were in fine condition, neatly packed together. Townsfolk bustled along the streets, some enjoying an early dinner in outdoor restaurants or doing some window shopping in the late August heat. Descending from the train, he looked around with some fascination at the neatly arrayed streets and buildings. This world was one bloody surprise after another! 

“Anastas?” Lucius inquired, looking at the surprised teen. 

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to Lucius. “Yes?” 

“Did the Headmaster say whether you were to take a carriage or join the First Years on their boat ride across the lake?” 

Anastas frowned. “He didn’t say but I’d much rather take a carriage ride.” 

Severus nodded simply, “Then I would suggest we find an empty carriage. We wouldn’t want to share with a group of dimwit Gryffindors.” 

Having come to an agreement, the five boys quickly claimed the first empty carriage they could find.

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**The Great Hall  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland  
Saturday the 31st of August 1974  
4:35 PM**

It was the beginning of what would likely be a very interesting school year, as one Headmaster Albus Dumbledore believed. The Order of the Phoenix had begun hearing disturbing rumors of a Dark Wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort but so far they did not have many leads. He knew however that if the rumors had any substance, the first likely place to look for information would be with Slytherin House. Dumbledore held no prejudice against Salazar Slytherin’s House which, over the years, had been rumored to foster Dark Wizards and Witches. It was simply a matter of logic to start there, the most ambitious students were sorted into the House of Snakes and likely if there was to be any information learned about this Lord Voldemort, it would be found there or no where else. 

Regardless of what was learned, Dumbledore knew that this year would prove to be one of interest and the reason for that was young Anastas Lund-Torres. Ever since his Adoption by the third son of Asturias’ Sovereign Prince, the Wizarding media had been abuzz with speculation about the young teenage Wizard. It had been barely a week ago when a nosy reporter for _The Spanish Navigator_ had discovered documents at the Muggle Orphanage identifying young Anastas as the grandson of one Columbe Focalor. 

Two days after that discovery Evaristo Torres had formally submitted a form to legally change his Heir’s name to Anastas Evaristo Rafael Lund-Torres. Reporters had clamored to Gringotts for confirmation which had been given rather brusquely. Evaristo Torres had brought his son to the London Gringotts asking for a Heritage Evaluation which had been given. According to the Bloodline Parchment, Anastas was undeniably the great-great-grandson of Jacob Lund and the only living Heir remaining. Anastas Lund-Torres had fulfilled the only requirement his ancestor had requested, taking on the Lund name, before he was able to inherit all the Lund monies and assets. The Lund accounts and properties would be held in trust by Evaristo Torres until his son reached his majority at age seventeen. 

As his husband Rhys had been quick to point out, the story of Anastas Lund-Torres was like a Muggle fairy tale. He had been a lone orphan, Adopted into a prestigious Royal Family, and had discovered that he was the last living heir to another wealthy and prestigious Family to boot. Aside from having one of the largest fortunes in the Wizarding World, the Lund Family also had the distinction of being Swedish Nobles. Anastas had likely had his life turned upside down and inside out before all was said and done but he had kept his composure and accepted everything with a quiet dignity. Dumbledore was looking forward to meeting the teen, somehow he had a feeling that said teen would be the catalyst for many changes. 

Professors Flitwick and Slughorn entered the Hall, both eagerly talking about the Lund-Torres heir and what teaching him would be like. 

“…to have the honor of teaching a Torres!” Professor Flitwick exclaimed delighted. “It has been some two hundred years and more since a Torres was taught in these halls!” 

Professor Slughorn beamed, “And consider the Lund connection as well! It’s said Jacob Lund was the most cunning of all the Lunds born thus far! I would be beyond pleased if young Anastas was Sorted into my honorable House.” 

“I see they are still arguing about where the Lund-Torres Heir will be Sorted,” Rhys Dumbledore commented as he took the seat to his husband’s right. 

Dumbledore chuckled as he turned to face his spouse, “It has been like this for nearly a week now. It will be some relief to have the matter dealt with this evening.” 

Rhys laughed, “And then you’ll be faced with a more terrible situation, all the hopeful young witches and wizards who will be chasing after the poor boy. It’s not often, after all, that a Prince of the Blood attends a Magical school.”

“I have heard from my dear friend Paulo D’Cruz and he told me at great length that Anastas has quickly become the favorite grandson of the Sovereign Prince. He’s a charming teen from what he tells me, with a princely demeanor through and through. It shall be quite entertaining having him here.” Dumbledore confided, eyes twinkling. 

The rest of the staff began to arrive, taking their seats at the Staff table while they awaited the arrival of their students. Conversation flowed from various topics about lesson plans, to recent news and, of course, the Lund-Torres heir. Ten minutes later, students began to enter the Hall chattering about their summer vacation while they took their seats. The young witches, Dumbledore noticed, were giggling about something while the Wizards were shaking their heads. Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape in particular looked the most annoyed, though the reason why was anyone’s guess at the moment. 

Professor McGonagall checked the Hall and once she was satisfied that all the students were seated, she vanished to retrieve the First Year students and the Transfer students. It was a large group Dumbledore recalled. Once it had become public knowledge that the Lund-Torres heir would be attending Hogwarts many Pureblooded Families, from not only Europe but all over the world, had decided to transfer their eligible offspring. No doubt they were hoping that their children could attract and hold the attention of the young Prince but Dumbledore rightly knew that teenage boys were quite fickle with their affections. Despite having been placed into Fourth Year upon the recommendation of his elite tutors, no one truly had any idea how old the boy was. The _Navigator_ had speculated that he was anywhere between ages twelve to fourteen though upon seeing the boy, they had guessed he was younger than he appeared. 

Setting the stool down, Professor McGonagall explained how they would be Sorted into their Houses and then let the Sorting Hat sing it’s song. Once that had been taken care of she began calling the names of the First Years. After they had been Sorted, she took out another list containing the names of the Transfer Students and began calling them. Anastas waited patiently for his turn, ignoring the far too familiar stares and whispers of the students watching. 

“Lund-Torres, Anastas!” 

Stepping forward Anastas took a seat on the stool and set the Sorting Hat on his head, still able to faintly hear the whispers of his audience. 

:: Well, well what have we here? You’ve got the memories of someone far older than you…oh I see! Never let it be said that I would stand in the way of someone as determined as you are. I wish you the best of luck and have no fear I’ll speak of what I’ve seen in your mind. Without a doubt you belong in… :: 

“SLYTHERIN!” The Sorting Hat proclaimed, after nearly eight minutes spent pouring through Anastas’s memories. 

Removing the Sorting Hat, Anastas set it down on the stool as he headed toward the Slytherin table amid cheers and applause from the normally reserved students. As he took a seat between Lucius and Severus, Professor Flitwick handed a pouch of Galleons to a gleeful Professor Slughorn. 

Dumbledore’s eyebrows lifted with interest, it was not an entirely unexpected event but the angelic looking boy certainly seemed quite out of place amongst his rather sinister looking housemates. It was quite clear that appearances could be deceiving and it made him wonder what sort of keen mind lurked behind that angelic countenance. 

In person the Lund-Torres heir was of average height standing at five and half feet tall and moved with a refined gait that bespoke of hours of tutelage in Pureblooded Etiquette. At a glance it was quite clear that his Lund heritage dominated over both his Torres and Focalor blood. In fact, it was very difficult to detect any Focalor traits as he bore the pale hair and coloring of his Lund ancestors. Many speculated that the only traits he bore of the Torres lineage were his storm gray eyes and his barely tanned skin which only added to his angelic luminance or so the media was fond of reiterating. 

As he had guessed, the Lund-Torres Heir would bear watching. Though young, only a fool would be moronic enough to dismiss the future influence the boy would have on the Wizarding World. With his fortune, bloodlines and intellect, it was likely that Anastas would someday lead the Wizarding World in entirely new directions. This would definitely be an interesting year without a doubt!

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After the delicious Welcoming Feast, Anastas followed his fellow Slytherin housemates down into the dungeons. Along the way, several of his housemates came forward for a proper introduction causing Anastas to begin the tedious task of remembering faces and the names that went with them. By the time they arrived in front of the entrance into the Slytherin Common Room, it was taking all of his self control to avoid displaying the huge headache he now had.

Lucius gave the password, “ _Res quanto est maior tanto est insidiosior_.” (The bigger the undertaking, the trickier it is) 

Anastas raised his eyebrows and Severus smiled slightly. 

“Professor Slughorn is fond of Latin philosophers,” 

“So I gather,” Anastas replied as he followed the others into the Slytherin Common Room. As he was already aware, that was not all the older man was fond of.

He was slightly surprised by the Common Room. Much like the one in his world, the room was dungeon-like in appearance with a low ceiling. Two large fireplaces took up most of the southern wall with a table and chairs set directly in front of it. Most of the furniture in the center of the room was angled to face the fireplace. A wall length bookshelf took up the eastern wall with tables and chairs taking up the remaining space along the western and northern walls. Anastas guessed that the doors flanking the fireplace led to the dormitories. Caitlin O’Brien, a Fifth Year Prefect, was leading the First Years behind them pointing out where to find the Notice Board (which was to the left of the Common Room entrance) and explaining about using the books in the Common Room.

Barely ten minutes passed before Professor Slughorn made an appearance. He greeted his students, explained what was expected of a Slytherin student, set some basic behavioral rules and then dismissed them. As Anastas had expected, Slughorn immediately homed in on him and began sprouting an assortment of compliments and inquires about his family. It came as a mild sort of relief that despite how many things varied between the two worlds, some people’s goals and motivations remained exactly the same. It was nearly ten o’clock by the time Anastas had finally been able to excuse himself to prepare for bed. 

Rabastan Lestrange directed him to the doors to the right of the fireplace, telling him to take the stairs on the left side of the doors down three levels. When he walked into his dormitory he found the other boys in his Year were still up, unpacking their things as they talked about their holiday and got to know each other. Seven of the thirteen boys now sharing the dormitory had been new, Anastas included and the rest were transfers from foreign schools or came straight from tutors. 

The dormitory was a T shaped room containing thirteen beds with the door to the shared bathroom across from the entrance door, in the left corner. Four beds were arranged horizontally along the wall to the immediate right of the door, with another two set along the wall on the left of the door. The bottom of the T shaped room was located to the left. Six of the last seven beds were arranged vertically, headboard to headboard, in three rows of two along the walls and the center of the vertical portion of the T shaped room, with the last bed located horizontally at the very bottom of the T.

Seth Bracken and Timothy Wilkes had the beds closest to the door, with Gruffud Ward and Aeneas Argyris taking the beds closest to the shared bathroom and O’Connor and Van Gysel took the two middle beds between the four. Lucius and Severus had the two beds along the bottom right side of the room, Hryhoruk and Wei had the center set of beds and Campo and Sospiri had the left most set. Anastas shrugged in response to the tentative looks of his roommates, indicating his lack of preference. He idly listened to the others as he put away his clothes and toiletries in the armoire alongside the wall near his headboard. Closing the armoire and locking it with a swish of his wand, Anastas moved to the side, studying the door hinges. 

Spotting the small slot along the middle hinge, he traced his wand-tip on it and was rewarded with a soft click as the armoire doors swung open sideways revealing a hidden storage compartment. Anastas smiled to himself as he put away his jewelry and other expensive items he had brought with him. After he finished putting away his things he closed the armoire for the final time and cast two layers of Locking and Protection Charms over it. Picking up the bag of toiletries on his trunk, Anastas walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

The bathroom was very spacious. Six toilet stalls were set along the wall to his right, with six large sunken tubs to his immediate left and six shower stalls along the wall across from the tubs. In the center of the room was a towel cabinet with a laundry hamper next to it. A row of sinks was situated on the far wall directly across from the door, which was placed at the junction where the outermost walls formed a short L. Returning to his bed once he finished, Anastas changed into the navy colored silk pajamas he had left on his bed. Only Severus and Lucius were still awake at this point, it being some time after eleven o’clock now. 

Lucius glanced up from the open book on his lap. “What do you think of Hogwarts so far?”

“It’s a very old castle but filled with magic. I can see how it’s become so sentient.” Anastas commented. 

“My step-father believes Hogwarts is so sentient because of where it’s located. It’s on top of a magical node, one of the only ones in Great Britain.” Severus replied absently as he scribbled notes down as he read a Potions book. 

Anastas nodded thoughtfully, reminding himself to do some research about that at a later time. “I think I’ll turn in for the night, we have to be up earlier than I’d like. Goodnight Lucius, Severus.”

“Goodnight Anastas,” Lucius replied as he returned his attention to his book.

Severus mumbled a quick “Goodnight,” before scribbling even more furiously.

Anastas shook his head and climbed into his bed, pulling the curtains closed and casting a few Privacy Charms. The day overall had been productive as he’d played the role expected of him to the letter and made enough connections to Dark-inclined families to merit eventual attention by the Dark Lord. Now all he had to do was put up with four years of schooling.

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**Colchester Castle, Wales  
Sunday the 1st of September 1974  
12:08 AM**

Voldemort contemplated his next move before moving his knight. “So, you say the boy has been Sorted into Slytherin?” 

“Yes,” Cassius Malfoy replied as he frowned down at the chessboard. “What will you do?” 

Voldemort picked up his glass of brandy on the nearby side table and took a drink. “I have given it a great deal of thought my young friend, and I have come to the conclusion that the best way to proceed is to observe his habits and desires. Though I do have an informant at Hogwarts, I doubt that a Professor could learn as much about his personality and ambitions as a fellow peer. I would like you to ask Lucius to befriend him; I want to know his past, motivations and future ambitions. At this stage in his life, it would be easy to manipulate him but if he is as intelligent as the rumors suggest, it would be more profitable to both parties if he willingly joined us.” 

Cassius made his move. “I doubt I even have to say anything to Lucius, he’s been inordinately fascinated with Anastas since they met last week. I’m sure he will do his utmost to befriend the Lund-Torres heir.” 

“One wonders if Lucius is attracted to the boy because he’s an enigma or because of his appearance.” Voldemort commented, chuckling. 

“Regardless of his motives, he has good instincts and I am certain that Father would be all too pleased if he did have a romantic interest in Anastas. He has become the most eligible bachelor in Europe, possibly even the Wizarding World itself, and the Pureblooded Families will begin courting him at the earliest opportunity. I do not envy his father in that matter, having to deal with the onslaught of courtship requests.” 

Voldemort moved his rook and took one of Cassius’s pawns. “It all depends on his age, once the boy turns fourteen Pureblooded Families all across the world will be after him. Anastas is a prize in more ways than one. In a purely financial and political sense he is Heir to two separate, impressive fortunes and has direct connections to the most prominent Pureblood Families in Asturias. In addition to that, he is nearly forty-six centuries Pureblooded patrilineally and eighteen centuries Pureblooded matrilineally, certainly one of the greatest social coups in European history. The fortuitous Wizard or Witch, whom earns the honor of someday becoming Mr. or Mrs. Anastas Lund-Torres, will have the very Wizarding World at his or her fingertips.” 

Cassius nodded as he leaned back in his chair, contemplating both the chessboard and the possibilities in the future. “That is true and there are many other conflicting issues as well, for instance what requirements the Torres Family has for potential spouses and possibly even what the Focalors may demand of him. Still…if Lucius and Anastas were so inclined, it would be a very suitable arrangement for all of us.” 

“Perhaps but I think the likelihood of a long term relationship is very slim. Adopted or no, Anastas is a Prince of Asturias and Lucius may not be Pureblooded or connected enough to be accepted as a suitable spouse by the rest of the Torres Family.” Voldemort replied. 

“I will write Lucius a note when I return home,” the younger man agreed.

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Anastas was the first to wake the next morning. Despite what his father thought, he normally woke up every morning between the hours of three a.m. to four a.m. a habit which even Azkaban had not changed. Following his morning routine, he lay in bed for another hour meditating and practicing his Occulmency. It was absolutely vital that no one ever saw his memories of his previous life in his old world. By the time he finished his wristwatch displayed the time as a quarter past four. Getting out of bed, he silently changed out of his pajamas and into a comfortable set of work out clothes.

Once he was dressed he made his way out of the Slytherin Dormitory and into the dungeons. Following his instinct he navigated his way blindly through the dark maze-like hallways, heading deeper and deeper into the dungeons. The air was cold and damp by the time he stopped in front of what appeared to be a dead end. It was good that some things had remained the same. Moving forward, he placed his palm against the wall and felt around for the loose stone that would allow him to waken the stone guardian. It took him nearly ten minutes before he found it. Carefully prying the stone free, Anastas bravely stuck his hand through the opening. 

Much like what had happened in his world, there was no warning before he felt horribly sharp teeth sink into his hand before jerking to the side. Blood gushed, hot and sticky down his hand and he could feel soft, wet tissue contracting around his hand, eagerly swallowing his blood. 

\- _You are not Salazar, nor a hatchling of his line! By what right do you awaken me from my slumber paltry mortal?_ \- 

\- _I wake thee Nehebkau, in the name of your father and liege He-Whom-Lives-In-Darkness._ -

There was a heartbeat of silence. - _What is the name of my father mortal?_ -

\- _He-Whom-Lives-In-Darkness has no true name servant! I am no fool to fall prey to such obvious treachery!_ \- Anastas protested angrily. 

\- _Very well, by what name have your ancestors invoked my Lord Father?_ -

\- _In the age of your first slumber they called him Apophis but it was the Children born of the Desert whom gave him his first name…Apep._ -

Nehebkau let go of his hand. - _You speak truthfully mortal and now that your blood has given me life once again, I am yours to command. What do you will of me?_ -

\- _Allow myself and those I give safe conduct through the hidden passageways guarded by yourself and your brethren. Now stand aside and speak with the other guardians in the castle_. - Anastas replied, dismissing the snake and removing his hand from the hole in the wall. 

\- _As you wish, Master._ \- Gears began moving and a large section of the wall swung open, revealing a pitch black corridor. 

Reaching into his pocket, Anastas took out a small silver and glass lantern. A swish of his wrist caused the shrunken lantern to return to its normal size. Twisting the lid open, he muttered an incantation, pointing his wand into the lantern. A cheery bluebell flame erupted from the tip of his wand, casting a bright bluish light in the otherwise dark corridor. Closing the top of the lantern, Anastas took hold of the large silver ring at the top of the lantern and holding it out before him, entered the secret room. 

The passageway was small with just enough room for two people to walk side by side and tall enough to let a troll through. It took several Scouring Charms to clean the dust and cobweb covered walls but once they were clean, Anastas was surprised to note that they weren’t ordinary walls seen in the dungeons. Though made of gray stone, the walls had been divided up into small two by two foot frames and each frame depicted a different species of snake. The name of each species of snake had been inscribed at the bottom of each frame and Anastas was rather impressed by how many species had been identified by Wizards in the late Tenth Century. 

It took ten minutes to traverse the serpentine corridor which opened directly into a large sunken room. The minute he passed the threshold Everlasting Torches began lighting the room, illuminating it. Weapons of all types and weights hung on racks along the northern wall to his right. Directly across from him was a wall lined in towering bookshelves which would have made his dear friend Hermione weep with envy. Arrayed on the left wall were mannequins covered in different styles of Battle Robes and a very rare set of late Greco-Roman Spell-Proof Adamantine armor. The eastern wall, which he was standing next to, contained the Coat of Arms and surprisingly, the Family Trees of Pureblooded Wizarding Families from Great Britain, Scotland, Ireland, France, Germany and Spain. 

Pausing to hang his lantern on a nearby hook Anastas headed to the first and most elaborate Family Tree which, unsurprisingly, was of the Slytherin Family. Taking out his wand, Anastas set the tree to display backward so he could view it properly beginning with Salazar Slytherin. An hour later, he was so engrossed in studying the Slytherin Family Tree that he forgot his original reason for coming here. Anastas only wished that he had discovered the Slytherin House Dueling Hall in his world then he could have made a better comparison. 

Three months was barely enough time to get a good grasp on the history of this world, let alone all the other subjects he’d had to study. He was fortunate that the War had toiled on so long, allowing him to develop research skills that had appeased Hermione’s meticulousness along with strategizing abilities that made Ron second-guess himself. How he missed them, but he had promised-- no vowed that he would do better this time! This time around he was determined he would do everything he possibly could to minimize civilian death and Anastas swore that he would destroy Voldemort from within the ranks of his own Death Eaters! To do that, Anastas would have to know every detail about his enemy and once he did, he would use that knowledge to destroy him utterly. Smiling viciously, Anastas conjured a chair and returned his attention to the Family Tree.

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**The Solarium  
Focalor Aerie, France  
Sunday the 1st of September 1974  
8:33 AM**

Alauda Tesia Focalor, Matriarch of the Focalor Family, stared down at the elegant, monogrammed missive which had arrived in her morning post. 

_Matriarch Alauda Focalor-_

_Si Vales Valeo (1)_

_I, Estavan Cleto Torres, offer my sincerest salutations and apologize profusely for the delay in initiating correspondence between our prestigious Families._

_I shall be brief, by now you have no doubt heard news of my newest grandson Anastas Lund-Torres. My son Evaristo and my solicitors have found and procured legal documentation proving without a doubt that young Anastas is both the only surviving Lund Heir and that he was the great-grandson of your youngest brother, Columbe Focalor._

_The reason I am writing you goes far beyond simple common Pureblooded courtesies. Evaristo, who in his own right is a famed Seer, has a suspicion that Anastas will display physical characteristics of the Veela or Harpy blood received through his maternal ancestry. My son assures me that there is no cause for concern yet so I would like to extend an invitation to your family to join us at the Palacio for Christmas Festivities beginning the 20th of December until the 2nd of January. If it is possible, please bring your family Medi-wizard or notify me of a reputable Medi-wizard and I shall see that Anastas is examined._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Estavan Cleto Torres, Sovereign Prince of the Kingdom of Asturias_

**Memores acti prudentes future.** (Mindful of what has been done, aware of what will be.) 

If there was one thing Alauda hated with a passion, it was being struck speechless. Yet, that’s exactly the predicament she found herself in after reading the letter stamped with the seal of the Asturian Royal Family. The Focalors had never hid their inclination to marry into Veela or Harpy Conclaves. It kept their bloodlines Pure, their magic strong and especially, kept the Focalors strictly Neutral in Wizarding Affairs. 

As far back as the Focalor Family records went, they had always continuously married into Veela or Harpy Conclaves every second or third generation. The children of such unions were always exquisitely formed and much sought after by other Wizarding Families. But such inherent beauty came with a steep price, the Focalor Wizards were almost always less powerful than their Witch counterparts, though there was always an exception. Every seventh to ninth generation, a Wizard with Focalor blood was born who manifested full Veela or Harpy characteristics which nearly doubled, if not tripled, the amount of magic they had at their disposal.

It was not the fact that her great-grandnephew might be a full Veela or Harpy that dismayed and surprised her so. No, it was the fact that it should have been **impossible** for his Magical Creature blood to manifest as he was born of the Fourth generation! This was…unheard of! Never before had the Focalors observed the dormant power their weaker male relatives passed on emerge so soon! Even the fabulously intelligent Jacob Lund had been an average Wizard at best while her brother Columbe had barely ranked above Squib status and his son Corvus and his grandson Florian **had** been Squibs! 

So how in the name of Merlin had their genes been able to create the infamous Focalor Hellion?!

Alauda slouched in her chair, rubbing her temples with her hands. “Damn you mother! If only you hadn’t disowned Columbe for running off with the Lund Heiress. Now what am I supposed to do?”

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**The Great Hall  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland  
Sunday the 1st of September 1974  
7:34 PM**

Dinner was almost over and Anastas could still feel the stares, hear the whispers following him. It was almost as bad as his first day of school when he had started attending Hogwarts in his own world, only this was much worse. Hero-worship was something he had become accustomed to over the years but the giggling attentions of young Witches was more than he could bear! They clustered around him during breaks, they flirted with him in hallways and they did everything but slip him love potions to get his attention and it had only been a day! 

In his world, the War had erupted and overtaken the Wizarding World so quickly that there was no time for idle flirtations. The fact that Voldemort had yet to reveal himself was both worrisome and annoying. He had asked for a second chance to do things right, not have a gaggle of love struck adolescents chasing him around making doe eyes at him! Anastas had wanted to draw some attention to himself, but this wasn’t exactly the sort of attention he wanted. It didn’t help that the teachers had such a keen interest in him. During all the meals, Anastas could feel the occasional glances Dumbledore leveled at him and Slughorn had already invited him to join one of his gatherings. It was a shame he’d have to go, if only to further his contacts. 

Lucius and Severus had apparently come to a silent decision to befriend him, including him in their discussions and sitting next to him in class and at mealtimes. Anastas accepted their friendship, making sure that he appeared to be unfamiliar with the castle and the classes. The first day had been rather dull, the Professors reminding them that their OWLS were soon approaching and to study hard and take good notes. Fortunately Lucius and Severus were both attentive of their studies unlike the two loudest members of the Marauders which he’d shared two classes with today. 

He’d been amused to see that the Marauders of this world numbered as a group of three. Peter Pettigrew had died in the same accident that had killed his father, leaving his mother a widow and childless. He found this both relieving and disappointing. He had been looking forward to seeing Pettigrew be terrorized by Voldemort.

James, Sirius and Remus still got on famously with the two dark haired boys leading Remus into all sorts of mischief. In fact Anastas was a little worried about possibly finding himself in the middle of the silent War going on between the Maruaders and the former Slytherin Duo. As far as he could tell, both groups gave as good as they got and Lucius’s superior smirk sometimes made him regret choosing to befriend the two Slytherins. 

It was times like this where he bemoaned the fact that he had arrived in this world as a thirteen year old child and not his nineteen year old self. Just the thought of having to go through school and hormones on top of yet another War made him feel ancient! Anastas could only hope that things would fall out better this time around.

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Two weeks had passed by without incident and it was the last class before dinner, a joint Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Professor Osborne was a dark haired, solemn faced man who was almost always dressed in dark gray or black robes. Most of the students were unsure of him, the girls half in love with his smoky voice and half terrified of his spooky mannerisms. He had a habit of sneaking up on people without them even being aware of them and Anastas found it rather amusing. Perhaps this is who the Snape of his world had learned to be so stealthy?

“Today we will be having a practical lesson on Boggarts, as you may have surmised from the reading I assigned you yesterday. Now Professor Slughorn was kind enough to retrieve a Boggart from a trunk in one of the empty Potions Classrooms. If you would all kindly get up from your desks and move to the front of the classroom?” Professor Osborne began smoothly. 

The students began moving, taking out their wands and chatting with each other as they formed two distinct groups, one Slytherin the other Gryffindor. Waving his wand, Professor Osborne moved the desks to the side of the room, leaving a large open area. A flick of his wand drew the shaking trunk at the back of the classroom to the middle of the room. 

“Pay attention,” Osborne commented, instantly hushing the Fourth Years. “ _Retego_!” 

The lid of the trunk flew open and a strange black thing shot out turning into a green skinned forest troll. Anastas recognized it instantly, as they were the most intelligent of the three kinds of Trolls and often contracted as Security personnel. Standing at a shorter eight feet tall, it was a well proportioned, intimidating hulk carrying a huge spiked club. 

Raising its club, it moved forward to strike just as Professor Osborne pointed his wand at it, “ _Riddickulus_!” 

The class laughed as the once intimidating troll now shook a balloon sword at them, wearing a child’s play suit. 

Osborne had the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, “Now it’s your turn. Argyris you’re up first, Black is next and Bracken after him with the rest of you up in alphabetical order.” 

Argyris’s Boggart turned into a pale skinned, fang bearing Vampire, Sirius had a Thestral, Bracken’s was a Devil’s Snare and a wild eyed, blue skinned river troll was Brehn’s worst fear. Campo shuddered as a ripped out tongue materialized when it was his turn, making the Slytherin girl Elizabeth Cole’s Boggart, which turned into a suit of armor covered in blood, seem rather mild. Fiona Doherty was frightened of what looked to be a Selkie while her best friend Janelle Fleming was afraid of horned toads. Anastas knew firsthand how intimidating a Hungarian Horntail was and wondered what sort of experience Hryhoruk had had that had caused him to fear them so much. A fierce looking Griffin was Alice Jones’ greatest fear, Daniel Keegan paled at the sight of a Grim and Frank Longbottom had an easy time banishing a hissing Boomslang. 

“Lund-Torres, next!” Professor Osborne called out, standing to the side of the trunk well out of the way. 

Anastas hurried past Madereel, who still looked rather pale after facing off against a hag, wondering idly what would appear. Madereel’s hag, which was scrambling to pick up all her fallen crooked teeth, quickly began mutating. For half a minute it seemed to be fighting between two forms before it finally turned into a cloaked figure. Anastas watched the figure, puzzled by who it could be. The moment it spoke he blanched, recognizing its voice immediately. 

\- _You’re nothing more than a worthless, naïve fool. You’ll fail them just as you failed your friends. They’ll have you Kissed instead of thrown in Azkaban and they’ll have every reason to._ \- The cloaked figure laughed, sending chills up Anastas’s spine. - _You’re not a monster, oh no-- you’re my bloodthirsty Diablo!_ \- 

Anastas broke free from his shock. “ _Riddickulus_!” The cloaked figure did not turn into a laughable object of interest but was replaced with a thick, bloodied book with a dragonhide cover. Across the cover in spidery script were the words _Potentia Absolutus_ (Power Absolute). Horrified to see **that** book, Anastas cast the charm again for the second time. As had happened the first time he’d cast the spell, the book vanished to be replaced with the cloaked figure. Thoughtlessly, he cast a Silencing Charm and backed away, shaken in more ways than he wanted to think about right now.

Professor Osborne stared calculatingly at the intimidating figure. Parseltongue was such a rare gift and for this boy, who had been living as a Muggle bare months before, to know of another wizard who could speak the language was curious. The fact that he seemed to understand Parseltongue was also very interesting. Shaking his head slightly he called up the next student. Remus walked passed the dazed Slytherin and took his place in front of the Boggart, which quickly turned into a werewolf. Without speaking, Anastas quietly collected his things and left the room ignoring the stares that followed him. 

Once in the hallway, he released his breath and attempted to regain his calm. He didn’t know which of the two fears was worse to have been revealed to the class. The first was unidentifiable to them but it had spoken Parseltongue and he did not banish it until **after** it had finished speaking. The more observant students and even the Professor had likely picked up that clue and Anastas was not looking forward to the inquiry that would follow once rumor of this DADA lesson became common knowledge to the rest of the school. 

Then there was the second fear, that infamous book which had caused so much ruin in his former world. It was enough to make him want to Oblivate himself. Had Hermione been alive he might have known just how dangerous the _Potentia Absolutus_ was and if he hadn’t been so desperate he might have never undertaken the dangerous journey to the old Wizarding Ruin, Rasha’ule. In retrospect the only good thing about that book was that it had allowed him to destroy the remaining Horcruxes and kill Voldemort. Had it been worth being thrown into Azkaban for? Without a doubt, but it had been foolhardy of him to accept its powers without thinking about how the _Potentia Absolutus_ would change him. Nothing had been the same since that day. Truly, he had made the proverbial ‘deal with the devil’. 

There was no point in worrying about the figure and the book, likely he would have to deal with that particular demon later. It would be best to focus on the monumental setback this particular lesson had done to his plans and his projected ‘image’. How the hell was he going to repair this? 

Sighing, he decided to return to the dungeons and skip dinner. Let them make of it what they wanted; he really needed some time to plan and regain his nerves. Making a quick stop in his dorm to drop off his things, he quickly delved deeper into the dungeons heading to the forgotten Slytherin House Dueling Hall.

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After being released from their last class of the week, Severus and Lucius had immediately returned to their dorm, hoping to find Anastas. The pale haired boy had fled class without a word after taking his turn with the Boggart. While surprised at the odd fears his friend had, Lucius had also noted silently that there was most definitely far more to the Lund-Torres heir than anyone had probably guessed in their wildest fantasies.

Severus and the other Slytherins had been silent, no doubt each absorbed with attempting to puzzle out the strange encounter in the classroom between their Housemate and the Boggart. As they had anticipated, the Gryffindors were gossiping loudly amongst themselves and eagerly stopped to tell friends and mutual acquaintances from other Houses about the strange incident in class. No doubt that the entire school and half the continent would know about the incident by the end of the weekend. Lucius grimaced; he did not envy his friend. The media would likely turn it into a spectacle, at least until the Sovereign Prince made his displeasure known. Then it would fade away from mainstream gossip to private speculation, spoken well out of earshot of anyone with connection to the Torres Family. 

Lucius was annoyed to find their dorm empty. Only Anastas’ schoolbag gave any indication that the other boy had even returned to the dorm. Finding him would prove difficult in a school this size and Severus was quick to point out that their best choice would be to wait until Anastas joined the rest of the school for dinner. Nodding absently, Lucius wondered if the other boy would even bother making an appearance. 

Two hours later, Lucius had the answer to his question. Anastas had not come out of hiding for dinner which was probably a good thing. Even though he had an angelic appearance and a nearly saint-like patience, Lucius had a feeling that the amount of gossip about Anastas’ Boggart would have likely caused the other boy to lose his temper. Only the Slytherin table was silent on the matter, they would likely ponder and share their theories later in a less public setting but they were Slytherins so that would be expected behavior. 

At the Head Table, the Professors were also speaking softly of what had happened. Professor Slughorn was speaking in hushed tones with Professor Sinistra about how the media was likely to react when the news spread. Much to his annoyance, Professor Osborne found himself telling the story for the sixth time that evening to Professors Vector and Sprout. At the center of the table Albus and Rhys Dumbledore along with Professor McGonagall, were exchanging possible ideas about where the young Slytherin could be hiding. Fifth Year Prefect Evan Rosier had reported that no one had seen the Lund-Torres heir since he had abruptly left his DADA class and though he had been in the dorm briefly, no one had seen him after classes were let out. 

After spending most of dinner debating about searching the school, Dumbledore finally decided that they would begin looking only if Anastas did not return to his dorm by curfew. As Professor Osborne had pointed out after first recounting the incident, it was likely the boy had wandered off to think about what had happened. Professor Slughorn cheerily agreed to grade papers in the Slytherin Common Room, so he could report if the Lund-Torres heir returned before curfew. Dumbledore nodded in agreement, thinking about what he had been told. It was not uncommon for a Boggart to change into different shapes when a Wizard failed to properly perform the Boggart Banishing Spell but he was vastly curious to find out more.

The cloaked man appeared to have spoken Parseltongue and where would a Muggle-raised orphan have heard Parseltongue before to recognize it? From the way Professor Osborne had described it, the Lund-Torres heir had not only recognized it, he had also understood it! It was becoming quite clear that young Anastas was more than he seemed and Dumbledore would have to invite the boy up to his office for tea soon.

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Notes:

1) Si Vales Valeo- Latin phrase meaning “If you are well, I am well” and was commonly used at the beginning of Ancient Roman letters.

The **Torres Family** \- They have ruled the Wizarding Kingdom of Asturias for two thousand years, both before the Muggle KoA was founded in the 700’s and even after the Muggle KoA was absorbed into the Kingdom of Leon. Both kingdoms were separate, though the Wizards were obviously aware of the Muggle one. Estavan is a ruling Prince and his formal title is, His Serene Highness, the Sovereign Prince of Asturias, Estavan…etc. 

All of Estavan’s descendants up to the third generation also bear the title Prince/Princess. Apolinar as the heir apparent is titled, ‘His Serene Highness, the Hereditary Prince of Asturias, Apolinar…etc. The rest of the Princes/Princesses are simply ‘His/Her Serene Highness’. Within the family itself, aside from given names, the siblings tend to refer to each other by the noble titles given to them from their father. I’ll go through more of the Torres Family history later on, so if you’re puzzled now (or curious) this will definitely be explored in depth later on. 

The **Lund Family** \- I got several reviews mentioning some confusion about the Lund Family so I’ll lay it out clearly for you. 

Jacob Lund and Leticia De Witte had Phoebe Lund.

Phoebe Lund and Columbe Focalor had Corvus Focalor. Later on he became known as Corbin Evans. 

Corbin Evans and Eglantine Teague had Florian Evans. (At this time the Focalor connection was forgotten)

Florian Evans and Gillian Trent had Petunia and Lily Evans. (In the World Anastas left behind. In the current world, Florian died before ever getting married and thus never had children.)

And as we all know, James Potter and Lily Evans had Harry Potter. 

As mentioned last chapter, in the current world everyone believes Anastas is Florian Evans’s son. 

The **Focalor Family** \- Most family members have names that have some connection with birds. Unlike most Families, they are among the few who practice matrilineal succession, where all property and assets are passed directly from mother to daughter or the next closest female kin. 

Alauda wrongly believes that Anastas is born of the Fourth Focalor generation when in reality, he’s of the Fifth. As is tradition of the Focalor Family the First generation of Focalors to be born after a Focalor Hellion emerges will be married, without issue, into Veela or Harpy conclaves. For breaking tradition, Columbe Focalor was disowned. This puts Alauda in a difficult position. 

I hope that explains things well enough for now. Please review and ask questions if you’re confused, I’m happy to answer them! 

-SheWolfe7   
First Posted: Aug 18, 2006  
First Revised: Aug 30, 2006  
Second Revised: Dec 12, 2008


	3. Chapter II: Curiosity

  
Author's notes: Anastas settles into his role, Dumbledore is cautious, Voldemort is curious and a kidnapping attempt goes awry.   


* * *

A/N: Reposted to fix inconsistencies.

Thanks go out to my Beta Bre, who takes the time to correct all my horrible grammatical mistakes! This story is readable thanks to her.

Text Formatting:   
‘Character thoughts’  
 **Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info**  
 _Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_  
\- _Parseltongue_ -

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**Good Intentions  
By: SheWolfe7**

**Chapter II: Curiosity**

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**The Slytherin Common Room  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland  
Friday the 13th of September 1974  
9:50 PM**

Anastas wearily strode into the Common Room, pleased that Nehebkau and the other snakes in the school had been so helpful in sharing the secrets they guarded. Thanks to the knowledge they had given him, he had shaved off ten minutes on his way back to the Dormitory. He was unhappy to find Professor Slughorn in the Common Room. His Head of House made a great deal of fuss over him, much to the amusement and sympathy of his fellow housemates. Being ill humored, Anastas made it as clear as possible, without being outright rude, that he was fine and did not want to talk about what had happened earlier in the day. Curtly apologizing for the worry he had caused with his disappearance, Anastas bid his Head of House a short farewell before stalking off to the doors that lead to the boys’ dorms. 

Muttering under his breath, Anastas stomped down the stairs to the dorm he shared with his year-mates. Slipping into the room, he graced Wilkes and Bracken with an acknowledging nod before walking over to his armoire to retrieve a change of clothes and his toiletries. A hot shower would do him wonders at the moment, he had spent the past several hours building up his muscles and quickening his reflexes. 

When he finished showering and brushing his teeth and hair, he returned to the dorm and nearly growled when he saw Lucius and Severus loitering on his bed no doubt wanting to talk. Sighing, Anastas calmly put his things away and then turned to face them. 

“Yes?” 

Lucius appraised him with admiring eyes for several seconds before speaking, “We wanted to know how you are feeling. You left class rather abruptly.” 

“I’m fine now, I admit I was a bit taken aback earlier but I’ve come to terms with things so there’s nothing to worry about.” Anastas answered simply. 

“I see,” Severus replied studying him with black eyes that seemed to see right through him. 

Anastas raised his chin and met the dark eyed stare with a stormy look of his own. “I’ve little doubt the rest of the school is rife with gossip about what happened earlier but I’ll be the first to tell you both to mind your own business. As much as I appreciate having you both as friends, I’m not the sort that takes kindly to pestering about my past or my secrets.” 

Lucius nodded, as though Anastas had confirmed something he had long suspected. “Very well, I can respect that. What are your plans tomorrow?” 

“I’m thinking of trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch Team but I’m not entirely certain yet. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall are expecting me at one and two o’clock respectively to discuss moving me up a year or giving me weekly supplemental lessons. Then at six o’clock my father is coming to escort me back to Oviedo for a soiree at the Palacio.” 

“A soiree? This late in the year?”

Anastas smiled faintly, “I’m told it was arranged because Grandfather was tired of the deluge of inquires that kept arriving. Father said this was supposed to be a pre-emptive strike.” 

“Ah, you won’t be fourteen until later in the year?” Lucius asked finally comprehending why they were having a soiree out of season. 

“Oh no, I won’t be fourteen until next July! That’s why they’re having an unofficial gathering held in my name now; Grandfather doesn’t want to deal with ten, almost eleven months of inquires about Anterior Courtship Rituals.” 

Lucius gaped, “You’re **thirteen**?!” 

Anastas shrugged, “Age is nothing but a number. It can’t tell you how mature a person is in anything but the physical sense and considering how slowly we age, it’s not a barrier in most marriages.” 

“So…apt.” murmured Severus, glancing at his two friends with a thoughtful frown.

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The soiree was a success and had given his adopted family some reprieve from the deluge of letters requesting the possibilities of accepting Anterior Courtship Ritual requests. Evaristo had already warned him that things would get more and more intense as his birthday neared. It would likely prove to be tediously annoying but considering it would also be yet another way to further his contacts Anastas would deal with it. His father had also divulged that his Grandmother Tiziana and Aunt Isabella had already begun the grand plans for his coming out soiree to be held on his birthday, the twenty-seventh of July.

Anastas had little doubt they were planning to make his soiree the largest and grandest of all the debuting soirees of that Courting Season. The Torres Family prided itself on its prestigious bloodline after all and considering the extra connections his tie as a Lund and a Focalor also brought, it was likely the guest list would span continents. Even Uncle Apolinar had admitted it was likely to be a feeding frenzy but, he had declared with a charming grin and shining eyes, it would be the soiree of the Season! 

As Lucius had guessed, the next four days were a flurry of gossip and whispers. Anastas calmly ignored the attention focused on him, preferring not to waste his time answering pointless questions. By Wednesday, Grandfather had made his ill humor known and the speculation about Anastas’s Boggart lesson was abruptly dropped in public. This, Anastas decided, was a lovely benefit of being adopted into the Torres Family. Even though he would be watched, admired and gossiped by all, this time around he would have people willing to watch his back and suppress unpleasant speculation.

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**Colchester Castle, Wales  
Sunday the 15th of September 1974  
7:42 PM**

 

It was his favorite time of the day and after a long day of negotiations with the Vampires; he was unsurprised when he noticed Cassius joining him on the battlements. For a few minutes, the two were silent as they watched the splash of colors cast over a nearby lake. Colchester Castle was at the top of a bluff overlooking a stream fed lake to the east and forest to the north and west. 

Cassius waited, knowing better than to speak until he was addressed. The Dark Lord had made it very clear that he was never to be disturbed at his residence unless one had urgent news to report. He was given more leeway than the others but he knew that could be changed should he overstep the fine line that had been drawn between the two. 

Five minutes later, Voldemort stood up from his seat along the battlement wall. “What has Lucius written?” 

Cassius simply handed an envelope to the older wizard and waited. Voldemort read through the two pages of information and the one page of speculation and observations made by the younger Malfoy. Frowning, he pondered the incident over and over as he handed the papers back to Cassius. 

“My Lord?” Cassius prompted as fifteen minutes passed in silence. 

“Tell Lucius to continue his observation of the Lund-Torres Heir, I will look into this matter in the mean time. I will summon you with further instructions on the matter at a later date,” Voldemort said before striding back to the Castle proper. 

Parseltongue was a rare ability, at least to those born in Europe. As he recalled only three Families were known to still carry the ability and none of them were any that the Lund-Torres Heir would have blood ties to. A very intriguing situation…

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**The Headmaster’s Office  
Hogwarts, Scotland  
Wednesday the 18th of September 1974  
3:02 PM**

 

Dumbledore studied the student sitting across from him speculatively. The Lund-Torres Heir merely glanced at him calmly before taking a sip of his tea, waiting. 

There was something about him, Dumbledore mused. He had known some of the most powerful witches and wizards of the last two centuries and was no stranger to the innate confidence with which they carried themselves. Yet there was something more about Anastas Lund-Torres that drew the eye. Oh the boy had the looks and the bloodlines to earn a fair share of positive attention, plus he had charisma that would likely earn him a multitude of sycophants, but he was certain there was more to the boy than his looks and personality. 

At times it both irritated and intrigued him, the fact that he could not quite figure out what was so…well, appealing about him! The more cautious side of him was wary of the boy; after all he had a great deal of influence and more than enough power to cause changes. And while Dumbledore did think the Wizarding World needed change, he was worried about how the Lund-Torres heir would bring about said changes. 

Both the Focalors and the Torres Families were well known neutralists in that most shady thing called magical theory beliefs. While other pureblooded families might squabble about blood purity and the evils or virtues of Dark magic, neither the Focalors nor the Torres’ stooped so low as to quibble about such things. 

In the case of the Torres’ their Family was one of great power and, of even more importance, ancient lineage. They dismissed such ideological squabbles as pointless. Corruption was possible no matter what type of magic was performed after all and even the most steadfast person could be consumed by their own magic. 

The Focalors, with their mixed blood and illustrious familial connections, cared not a whit about what was classed as Light or Dark magic. In their eyes, magic was an intrinsic part of every magical being and however one chose to use the magic they were born with was their own business and no one else’s. 

Regardless of what sort of magic the members of their Family practiced, both the Focalors and the Torres’, stood rock firm in the convictions believed by their respective family. They worked together to achieve goals and were a deadly force to be reckoned with when someone made an enemy of one member. So perhaps it was little surprise that both Families were almost exclusively taught by tutors. 

Schooling taught a training wizard or witch to control and focus their innate magic but only experience could allow them to master their magic fully. Once a wizard or witch mastered their innate magic, one of two things occurred: their journey of magical growth ended in the maturation of their power or they would attempt to unlock the secrets of drawing upon the magic of the world around them. 

The latter was the downfall of many a good witch or wizard and it was during that journey that they were corrupted. It was a choice that for some was no choice at all. It was a well documented fact, after all, that power called to power and so, those with the greatest amounts of innate magic found themselves drawn to mastering control of the magic around them. Like a siren song, the impurities in the natural magic of the world would ensnare the newly aware and in the majority of cases, corrupt them beyond repair. 

Dumbledore had seen what that corruption could do to those with power and so, he was wisely cautious. After his defeat of Grindlewald, he had realized that the best way to serve the Wizarding world at large was to help its youth discover what lay within themselves. He had offered guidance and truth to those who teetered on the balance of choice and while he could not stop all of them from being corrupted, he at least warned them of what possibilities lay within the sparkling miasma of magic that pulsed from the Earth itself. 

“Professor Slughorn has told me that you suffered no lingering effects from your Boggart lesson last week.” Dumbledore said simply. 

Anastas shrugged elegantly. “I would admit that I was…taken aback by what I saw but after thinking it over, I have accepted it for what it is. Everyone has a weakness after all, why should I be any different?” 

“Indeed,” Dumbledore commented thoughtfully. “I think both of us are well aware of the reason why I have summoned you here and so I shall be frank, are you a Parselmouth or have you encountered one before?” 

“I am what I am and who I speak to is no one’s business.” Anastas said simply. “You may believe what you will of me, everyone else does after all. It does not concern me what others might think of me.”

“I see, well you may be on your way then.” Dumbledore said dismissively. 

Anastas nodded politely to him and then took his leave. 

Dumbledore rose from his chair behind his desk and turned to face his familiar. “He bears watching my friend, as all Torres do. Evaristo is an accomplished diplomat and quite familiar with the political and social games played by the ancient Pureblooded Families, but I wonder what he was thinking when he sent his grandson here? Hogwarts is, without a doubt, one of the finest, general schools in Europe but a child with the bloodline of two very powerful Families such as he, should be schooled behind wards strong enough to withstand a Magical Maelstrom. The Founders were brilliant and Hogwarts has ancient wards but even I do not know if it can withstand a two pronged assault by both the other students and the Lund-Torres heir.” 

Fawkes trilled soothingly and Dumbledore took heart. “You are right of course, there is the fail-safe. Although…I do not recall it ever having been activated, I suppose there is a first time for everything.”

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The weeks steadily passed by in a flurry of homework and essays. Pranks were pulled, couples came together and some broke up and Quidditch victories were celebrated in grand style. In short, things were progressing in a normal fashion at Hogwarts.

Anastas had quickly adjusted to the school and his peers. Though he had some acquaintances outside of Slytherin House, Lucius and Severus remained his closest friends. In fact, Anastas learned after some time that he actually enjoyed spending time with them. Severus’s dry, sarcastic sense of humor paired with Lucius’s drawling arrogance and witty conversation entertained him greatly. Perhaps it would be possible to reveal his plans but it was far too soon to fully trust them with his life’s goal so Anastas buried his future intentions and adapted to becoming the image he had formulated for himself months ago. 

By the night of the Halloween Feast, Anastas was the very picture of a normal pureblooded teenage wizard. The Professors viewed him as an intelligent, well-mannered teenage boy born from a prestigious bloodline and adopted into an even more prestigious family. All were convinced, in one way or another, that Anastas Lund-Torres would be a force to reckon with by the time he graduated from Hogwarts. He was the top student in most of his classes, even in Transfiguration and Charms, which he was now taking with the Fifth Year students. 

Among his peers, Anastas had earned the reputation as a smart, charming and talented wizard. Besides being the top student in all his classes, Anastas was also one of the best Seekers the Slytherin Quidditch Team had had in the last decade. Almost every witch at the school had hopes of dating him and even a handful of wizards had taken to gazing at him with speculative eyes. Lucius was less than pleased by the sudden amorous attention directed at his friend but held his tongue, seeing how the younger teen ignored it with polite disinterest. 

Tonight the air was filled with anticipation as everyone was looking forward to the magnificent feast the house-elves had prepared. The Hall echoed with laughter and conversation as the students piled into the Hall and took their seats at their respective tables. Looking down at their charges, the Professors watched with kind tolerance the children they taught. Dumbledore shared a smile with his husband as they spoke softly. 

Anastas walked between Severus and Lucius, talking animatedly about his Transfiguration lesson earlier that day. “…So then Caitlin starts shrieking when Audrey accidentally turns her Garden snake into half a dozen mice. They start skittering all over the room with the snakes chasing after them, the girls are screaming and McGonagall finally ordered the rest of the boys to try to capture the mice while she tried to get the others to quiet down. By the time we caught all the mice and turned it back into its normal form, there were five minutes left of class and McGonagall just let us all out early.” 

Lucius chuckled, silver eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m sure it took all her control not to turn into her Animagus form and catch them all that way!” 

“Probably,” Anastas admitted, repressing the urge to laugh. It had taken all his self control not to roll around on the floor laughing at the comments the snakes had been making. 

Severus just shook his head at the two as they made their way to their seats at the table. He had barely sat down when Shannon Joyce shoved him over a spot and turned to smile prettily at Anastas. She was a pretty girl, with her dark blond hair and hazel eyes but her attitude left much to be desired. As Draco’s bane had been that pug Parkinson, it appeared that Anastas was doomed to be chased after by the ardent youngest Joyce. 

“Sit next to me Anastas!” 

Severus glared at the other girl. “Are you so blind you cannot take a hint, Joyce?” 

Shannon graced Severus with a haughty look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Severus.” 

“She’s persistent,” Lucius grumbled sulkily. 

Anastas sat on the other side of Severus, Lucius quickly taking a seat on his left side preventing any other girls from sitting next to Anastas. “Shannon, how many times am I going to tell you that I’m not interested in you that way?” 

“But we’d be perfect for each other!” Shannon protested staring imploringly at him. 

“You don’t even know him, Joyce.” 

“But I want to know him! I lo-“ 

Lucius shot her a venomous look that spoke of pain if she finished that sentence. Joyce blinked and then wisely beat a hasty retreat to the far end of the table. 

“Utterly mad,” Anastas commented to his friends. “Doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone either!” 

“All girls are like that,” Severus agreed, referring to his shrill, step-sister Ophelia. 

Lucius filled his glass with Pumpkin juice. “These are the days I relish being the youngest child of two.” 

Anastas smirked, “And being the only child is best in that regard, no overbearing older siblings and no pesky younger ones.” 

“Perhaps but I find having siblings has its uses, if only so you alone don’t bear the full wrath of your parents’ fury.” Severus said with a slight shudder, his mother was rather terrifying in a rage. 

Before either boy could comment, the Headmaster got to his feet and made a few announcements before signaling for the feast to begin. Everyone applauded the magnificent feast that appeared and quite happily filled their plates. In between eating, conversation flowed readily ranging from spell theory to the latest fashions. Anastas enjoyed the innocently happy atmosphere, knowing it would not last much longer.

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**The Entrance Hall  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland  
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974  
9:07 AM**

 

Anastas watched from his vantage, leaning against the wall opposite the Entrance Doors. “Remind me again, why we agreed to wait here while Lucius went to exchange his cloak?” 

“Speaking from experience, even if we had gone with him we’d have only ended up being bored to tears while he preened in front of his mirror. Lucius is almost paranoid about his image, as though someone as handsome as he could look any worse wearing a wardrobe provided by one of the most popular Parisian designers.” Severus sniped, well on his way to being in a foul mood. 

Persis Maddox, an olive skinned petite girl in their year, joined them. “Are you still waiting for Lucius?” 

“Twenty-four minutes and counting,” Anastas answered after checking his pocket watch. 

“You’ll be waiting for a full hour!” Elizabeth Cole warned as she walked past them, arm in arm with Theodore Derricks, who was in the year above theirs. 

Rabastan Lestrange emerged from the steps leading down into the dungeons. His girlfriend, Seventh Year Ravenclaw Nadia Summers, walked over and took the arm he offered. He glanced at the waiting fourth years and spoke, “Lucius is on his way, I saw him coming out of the Fourth Year dorms when I left.” 

“Finally,” Severus grumbled, idly smoothing creases from the folds of his heavy black velvet robes. 

Anastas stepped away from the wall, his azure blue robes settling around his slim frame. “The way he acts, it’s as though he’s always preparing for his Coming of Age soiree, which he’s **already** had!” 

Persis laughed, “Maybe he’s practicing for his Engagement soiree?” 

“Or maybe,” Lucius said coldly as he joined them, “I care more for my appearance than you do of yours, Persis.” 

“Are you implying I’m some la-“

Anastas quickly broke up the heating argument. “That’s enough, honestly. We’ve wasted enough time, shall we go before the Hogsmeade Visit is completely over with?” 

Persis huffed and stormed away, joining a pair of third year Slytherins. Severus just sighed as he headed to the Entrance Doors, Lucius and Anastas falling into step alongside him.

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**The Wind Temple  
Focalor Aerie Grounds, France  
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974  
9:42 AM**

 

It was late in the morning when Alauda made her usual offerings at the Wind Temple. Both the Wind Temple and Focalor Aerie had been constructed at the same time. The Aerie was made of gray stone, allowing it to blend into the surrounding terrain while the Temple was constructed of glistening white stone. Previous Focalors had designed both buildings to be tall, beautiful and intimidating. Built on a Graben fault block of a range of fault-block mountains, the buildings mimicked the steady upward incline of the jagged, pristine mountains in the backdrop (1). 

The Wind Temple was a massive octagonal building that rose six stories in the air. Each level was equipped with four balconies for a swift entrance for those who expressed their Veela or Harpy inheritance. Unlike most Wizarding Families, the Focalors did not bury their dead and instead cremated them. The ashes of their ancestors were stored here in the Wind Temple where they would be safe from the unscrupulous and honored by their descendants. Light was provided by the glass doors of the balconies and the huge dome on the rooftop. 

Alauda, like all the previous Focalor Matriarchs, lit the ceremonial incense at the central altar on the first floor. Once the incense was lit, she opened the small leather satchel she brought with her and took out the beeswax candles. Setting them on the metal trays built onto the altar, she lit them one by one, murmuring the traditional venerations to the Matriarchs that had come before her. Finished with her ceremonial duties, Alauda set a single yellow rose on the altar and began her morning exercise. 

Every morning after breakfast she would place the offerings at the Wind Temple’s altar and then spend an hour walking along the halls of the Temple. It was the duty of every Matriarch to open the Wind Temple and place the offerings at the altar. The walk was a tradition that her grandmother had added to Temple tradition. 

Cinnyris Focalor had been a tall blond woman, more Harpy than Witch and had been the terror of the Family. None of the Focalors had dared to disobey Cinnyris and with her formidable attitude, she had brought the Focalor Family into the greatest heights of power. One of the most undeniably beautiful women in France, Cinnyris was also one of the most cunning. Using her marriage to Quillon Frontenac as a stepping stone, she had introduced the rest of the Focalor Family to the Wizarding _Haute Monde_ (high society). Prior to Cinnyris’s daring move, the Focalors had been feted in western Europe for centuries but introduction into the _Haute Monde_ was often difficult, even for old Pureblooded families like theirs. 

Even though several European Families could boast of their two or three thousand year or older pure blood, many could not hope to compete with their Middle-Eastern, Asian or even African counterparts. At least half a dozen Middle-Eastern Pureblood Families could claim four thousand year old blood, four African Pureblood Families claimed six and a half thousand year old blood and in Asia there were nearly three or more dozen Families that claimed to have blood just as old or even older in some cases. Entry into the _Haute Monde_ was beyond difficult to those not already apart of it but Cinnyris had not been the least bit afraid and had brought the Focalors with her. 

Nearly a hundred and forty years later, the Focalors were firmly entrenched in the _Haute Monde_. While they may not have the purest blood, due to their intermarriage with the Veela and Harpies, they did have the advantage of diverse **magical** blood and their looks. Cinnyris had known from the very beginning that the Focalors would be in demand. The infusion of strong magic donated by Focalor witches was often used to combat the weakening blood of even the oldest Pureblood Families. Now it was little surprise that each Focalor debutante had received at least a dozen offers of marriage before they accepted a proposal. This train of thought, however, brought Alauda back to her source of turmoil. It was true that the Focalor witches were fought over in the _Haute Monde_ but the only Focalor Hellion to be introduced at the _Haute Monde_ had, to put it lightly, caused a sensation. 

Harpagus Focalor, Alauda’s only uncle, was the current Focalor Hellion. He was a Veela and in his youth he had been capable of ensnaring the attention of an entire room, regardless of sexual orientation. It had taken him eleven years before he had found a compatible mate and each and every soiree hosted by the _Haute Monde_ had resulted in at least one brawl and numerous heated arguments. It seemed that the Focalor Hellions were even more powerful than the average Veela or Harpy and the courtship of each was memorable. 

Even if the Focalors never acknowledged him, as the grandson of Estavan Torres, Anastas Lund-Torres would have a gold embossed invitation waiting to be opened on his fourteenth birthday. If he was truly the next Focalor Hellion, the _Haute Monde_ was in for a rude awakening. 

Tradition dictated that once a Focalor was disowned, they and their descendants would never be acknowledged by the Family again. Yet, this was a very unusual situation. It would be lunacy to allow an untaught Focalor Hellion to run loose in the Wizarding World. And then there was the Sovereign Prince. If the Focalors slighted his grandson there would be bad blood between their Families for a great number of years. In addition to that, the Spanish Families would not dare to interact with the Focalors, for fear of angering the Sovereign Prince. 

The choice was obvious to Alauda and had been even without analyzing the possible social repercussions. Columbe may have been little better than a Squib at wizardry but he had been her baby brother. Taking his great-grandson under her wing was the least she could do for him. 

Having finished her morning exercise Alauda stopped at the altar to light another candle, the first for her brother since he had been disowned by their mother. She watched it burn for a few minutes, contemplating how things would have turned out if their mother hadn’t been temporarily in charge of the Family when her grandmother had been away visiting Aunt Athene. As she turned around fully intending to return to the Aerie, the doors to the Temple were thrown open and a frantic Evaristo Torres burst in. 

“You have to come with me right now! Anastas will need you!” Evaristo said as he ran over to her. 

Alauda tensed up, “What is wrong?” 

“The Change…it’s going to happen today in exactly eighteen minutes and it is going to be the result of an attack on my son! We have to hurry; he’s in Hogsmeade right now!” Evaristo said as he grabbed Alauda’s arm and started pulling her towards the Temple doors.

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**Hogsmeade, Scotland  
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974  
9:57 AM**

 

Anastas was the first to notice that they were being followed. 

Having spent a number of years playing life and death games with Death Eaters, he had a natural instinct for knowing when he was being followed or being watched. At the moment, he was certain of two things, the first, that there were at least three following them and secondly, that there were more observing. The question to ask now of course, was why he was being followed. 

Glancing at his companions, he noted that both were oblivious to the situation they were now in. Not entirely unexpected, this was a time of peace after all and he knew that it was quite irregular for anyone to be attacked, especially in broad daylight. What to do?

Anastas stopped in his tracks, “I can’t believe I forgot! I’m supposed to meet Father in fifteen minutes! I’ll see you both later.” 

Before his friends could even turn around to ask why he was meeting his father, Anastas had already taken off moving at a brisk trot. Having gotten away from his friends, he left Hogsmeade behind and was almost to the wall that circled around the grounds of Hogwarts when his stalkers revealed themselves. Dodging the Stunner, Anastas reached into his robes, drawing both a throwing dagger and his wand. 

“Well it’s good to know my instincts are as fine as ever,” Anastas commented, coolly looking over the six scruffy looking wizards facing him. “What pray tell, do you want with me?” 

“Ransom,” One of the men answered as they drew closer to him. “You’re worth millions!” 

Anastas snorted, “I see. Well, I can’t say I’m going to go along with your plot to steal my millions so let’s get to it shall we?” 

“Stupid boy,” one of the wizards commented before sending a Cutting Hex at him. 

Anastas grinned as he dodged the hex, his dagger burying itself in the throat of one of the six wizards. “Don’t underestimate me gentlemen, you’ll regret it. Then again, maybe you already do.” 

“You’ll be sorry you killed Langdon!” 

“Too much talk and not enough action,” Anastas commented as he made a mad dash through the opened gates and raced to the Forbidden Forest. Behind him his would-be kidnappers gave chase, cursing as they dodged a charge made by the gate’s stone guardians. Shedding his all too bright and identifiable robe, Anastas dodged around the trees transfiguring a few rotten logs into some panthers. When the kidnappers caught up, two died instantly as the big cats jumped down from the trees, tearing out their throats with little effort. He was barely aware of the remaining kidnappers destroying his transfigured panthers. 

Adrenaline was pumping through his system and his body along with his mind had fallen into purely combat instincts. The world had completely narrowed down to his attackers and himself. Nothing else existed and nothing else mattered. 

Joy coursed through his body. Initially he had hated fighting but over time he had learned to enjoy it, to thrill in the life and death struggle. Of course, that too had happened after he had found the damned book. It had done far more than enhance his powers, it had woken dormant powers and abilities that had lay sleeping inside of him. The Wizarding world had begun calling him the Diablo soon after and had feared what he had become. 

Idly, Anastas wondered what he looked like now. Before when his powers had just begun to blossom he had been a terror to behold, surrounded in a Demonic aura as some had called it. To him, it did not matter what he had looked like, all that mattered was the power at his disposal. Using the full power available to him made his reactions even more swift and decisive, on top of nearly tripling his regular output of magic. 

As the Diablo Anastas had been unstoppable and the Death Eaters had died in droves but every power had a price. 

The more Anastas used his power, the more the power needed to be unleashed. Every battle had escalated farther and farther until the surroundings became pure devastation while ally and foe were obliterated indiscriminately by simple accident. Using his powers Anastas was unstoppable but the power he had was too much to control and while it would never harm him, it had not cared a whit for anyone else in the surrounding battlefield. Unfortunately once his power was unleashed he could do nothing but wait until he had exhausted his reserve of magic and towards the end of the War, that could take anywhere from eight to twelve hours. 

It was little wonder they had called him the Diablo, he demolished everything in his path with a savage joy that had seemed inhuman. In his desperation to become more powerful than his enemy, he had fallen into a trap he could never escape. He had unearthed power that had awed even his enemy but instead of mastering it, he had become nothing more than an unwitting instrument. The power was linked to sheer animal instinct and to his dismay, it was near impossible to consciously control. 

Every time he tapped into it, he was overwhelmed and swept away. Nothing could bring him back until he had expended his powers and until the animal within him was content.

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**Hogsmeade, Scotland  
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974  
10:04 AM**

 

When Evaristo, Alauda and a small army of Focalors arrived at the edge of Hogsmeade, they learned very quickly that they were too late. Power seared the air, making it unseasonably hot and humid. No one had any doubts what was making that power and without speaking, they began running to the Forbidden Forest. 

Halfway through the forest, they encountered a group of Professors, led by the Headmaster himself. Evaristo quickly explained the situation while they continued on their way, far more cautious now. It was not unheard of for those with magical creature blood to suddenly come into their Inheritance during harrowing life or death experiences. What made this situation so terrifying was the sheer amount of power Anastas was producing. While his Wizarding bloodline was known to a few and speculated by all, it was very clear that his manifesting Inheritance made matters of his blood purity moot. 

Things were going to get very complicated very quickly once the Wizarding media learned of this. 

Alauda was beyond worried at this point. When they were within fifty feet of the shining pillar of magic produced by the newest Focalor Hellion, (for now, there could be no doubt that was what he was), she quickly gave instructions to the others. Anastas was in the second stage of Inheritance, that of the Change itself. The magic he was manifesting in a physical form would be used to fuel the Change but until it was properly harnessed, would simply run rampant destroying everything its path. In addition to the widespread destruction, his mind was clouded with instincts and thoughts not entirely his own. Pairing everyone into groups of three, they split up forming a large pentagram around Anastas. 

Blue sparks shot in the air, letting her know every group was in place. Drawing in a deep breath, Alauda shot up gold sparks alerting everyone to begin a Containment Charm. Once they started, she steeled her nerves and cautiously made her approach. When she was twenty feet away the forest gave way to pure ash, no doubt destroyed by Anastas’s power. She could see him clearly now. He was standing utterly still, surrounded by crimson waves of pure magic. He was stripped to the waist, his trousers ragged and torn but his body was flawless. To the right, she could see the form of three trembling Wizards, alert and utterly terrified. She sent them a dark look but serenely continued on her way, walking directly to Anastas. 

Fifteen feet away from him, she felt the resistance of his magic. It took pure force of will to force her feet to continue, one step in front of the other. The Containment Charm was working but compressing so much magic nearly gave it physical form. When she was five feet away from him, she began casting the Awakening Spell. Focusing all her magic on Anastas, she bit her right index finger and began drawing on his bare chest. It was important that she not only speak the words of the Spell but that she anchor it directly to him. With so much magic in the air, if she didn’t it could be disastrous to anyone within a half mile of him. Finished with the runes, she repeated the words to the Spell once again, reinforcing it as she backed away to a safe distance. When she finished the Spell a second time, she spoke the final word and was blinded by light. 

As the pillar of magic converged back into Anastas, the disruption of air sent everything flying back. The air, which had been filled with power earlier now was filled with shrieking as Anastas voiced the pain of his Change. Getting back to her feet, Alauda cleaned the ash off her robes with a muttered spell as she watched. It was impossible to see what was happening as Anastas was surrounded by his magic but she knew that the moment it was finished she would see him for the first time. While she waited, the others had crept forward, the Focalors surrounding her while the others watched clustered in another group. 

Minutes passed and when an hour went by the magic surrounding Anastas suddenly dispersed. All they could see was dark red then he moved and they realized those were his wings. Alauda marveled at the color, he was the first she had ever seen to have such a coloring. His wings appeared to be well formed and were more than large enough to shield his entire body. He looked unchanged for the most part, aside from his face and body appearing a little more mature, losing that childhood softness. And then he opened his eyes. The orbs were avian in appearance, larger and rounder but still the color of a storm.

“Anastas?” Evaristo asked, concerned at the vacant look on his son’s face. 

Anastas blinked, once twice and then replied. “Finally…complete.” 

Evaristo frowned for a moment before realizing what Anastas was referring to. “How do you feel?” 

“Better than ever,” Anastas replied as he lazily stretched, moving his body with awe. 

Alauda smiled slightly. “I am happy to hear it. I am Madame Alauda Focalor, Matriarch of the Focalor Family and your many times great-grandaunt.” 

Anastas studied her for a minute before nearly stumbling over as he attempted to give her a proper bow in greeting. Evaristo caught him carefully and tugged him into a standing position. 

“Be careful young tiercel, it will take you some months to become adjusted to your new form.” Alauda chastised with amusement. 

“I’m beginning to understand that.” Anastas commented wryly. “Despite my mishap, I would offer you my greetings, Madame. And my thanks; I feared what would happen once it began.” 

Alauda nodded simply, “It is something that all Focalors endure at one point or another, it was fortunate your father alerted me to the situation. Had I not delayed to bring the others, we could not have done anything for you until it occurred again.” 

Anastas nodded and attempted to cover his mouth as he yawned. “Suddenly, I feel so tired!” 

“You will need to rest soon, the Change is very taxing. We will take you to the Aerie so that we may help you adjust to your form and so our Healers may check your health.” Alauda explained as she took hold of his arm and withdrew a Port-key from a pocket in her robe.

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Notes:

(1)- Wikipedia describes a graben as ‘the result of a block of land being downthrown producing a valley with a distinct scarp on each side. Grabens often occur side-by-side with horsts.’ You can find a link to the article on my bio, if you’re curious to see what I’m talking about. 

(2)- Tiercel- a falconry term, it’s what a male hawk is called.

 

Read and Review! 

-SheWolfe7 

First Posted: Nov 26, 2006  
First Revised: Dec 15, 2008  
Second Post: Dec 31, 2008


	4. Chapter III: Celebration I

  
Author's notes: Reactions about Anastas's Inheritance as well as a positive identification of his Inheritance. Much speculation about what his Inheritance means both to suitors and to our favorite Dark Lord who is suddenly very keen to get our hero on his side.   


* * *

A/N: Reposted to fix inconsistencies.

Thanks go out to my Beta Bre, who takes the time to correct all my horrible grammatical mistakes! This story is readable thanks to her.

Text Formatting:   
‘Character thoughts’  
 **Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info**  
 _Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_  
\- _Parseltongue_ -

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**Good Intentions  
By: SheWolfe7**

**Chapter III: Celebration I**

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**The Tapestry Room  
St. Nestor’s Archive of Magic, Athens, Greece  
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974  
12:22 PM**

 

Voldemort had spent over a month researching and so far he had nothing to show for his efforts, a fact which only increased his curiosity about the Lund-Torres heir. The Tapestry Room at St. Nestor’s Archive was considered to have the most accurate and extensive collection of Family Tapestries. Of course, because it housed such potentially dangerous information, only certain people were allowed within the room and each of them were only given access to specific tapestries. It was fortunate he had a contact that worked at the Archive and even more convenient that said contact was a night guard. 

As Voldemort himself was the last Slytherin descendant, it narrowed down his search to the Batsuro and Simon Families. It had taken him two weeks to check the Batsuro tapestry and nine days to check the Simon tapestry and both had ended with no Lund, Torres or Focalor connections. Another week was spent duplicating both tapestries and then reversing the charm that prevented the descendants of Squibs from appearing on the tapestry. More time was then spent pouring over the tapestries and again, he had found no blood connections between any of the Families. Irritated, he made a copy of the Slytherin tapestry and traced all the Squib descendants which had led to a few interesting discoveries but no connections to the Lund-Torres heir. 

Frustrated beyond belief, he had returned to the Tapestry Room again, this time during normal hours of operation. Disguised as a scholar, he had been given a pass to browse the tapestries of all the defunct Pureblooded Families. He had noted a few interesting connections to deceased Families and at this point, he had little to lose. Just as he sat down at a work table, alarms began blaring throughout the building. 

What in the world was going on?

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**The Infirmary  
Focalor Aerie, France  
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974  
11:03 AM**

 

Evaristo calmly sipped his tea while the Focalor Healers sped in and out of the examination room. When they had arrived forty minutes ago, Anastas had been guided to an examination room to undergo tests to determine his magical creature heritage and to determine how well the Change itself had gone. Alauda had briskly ordered the small army of Focalors to begin the tests while she ushered him to a small sitting area in the corner of the Infirmary. A tea service had been sent for along with a stack of reading material and then she had vanished into the examination room. 

He had not been idle. The minute the doors had closed, he had taken out his pocket watch and twisted the face off, revealing a small enchanted mirror. After he finished explaining what had happened Estavan and Apolinar had abruptly ended the communication, no doubt on their way to begin damage control. Evaristo didn’t envy them that. With the amount of power his son had displayed, there would be no way to stifle what had occurred today. The best either could do now was put a stop to the rumors that would be sure to spread and insure that the would-be kidnappers were dealt with appropriately. 

Frowning slightly, Evaristo set his teacup down. While it was true that ransoming Anastas would have gained the ruffians several million Galleons, what had possessed them to make the attempted kidnapping? It simply did not make sense! Was the money worth earning the wrath of not only the Torres Family but the added fury of Wizarding Asturias and possibly Wizarding Spain? And since the Focalors had decided to acknowledge Anastas, the survivors would now face the righteous vengeance of not only the French Family but also the Veela and Harpy communities as well. 

Evaristo highly doubted that Voldemort was behind this plot. Considering the way the Dark Lord was keeping a low profile, it was not a mission he would have assigned his minions. Admittedly, it could be a plot from a political or social rival but it would have been too extreme. Had the kidnapping been successful, it would almost certainly upset the political and social circles of Spain, as well as the political and economic circles in Sweden. 

When the news of the failed kidnapping spread, Evaristo was certain that he would personally receive a visit from several Swedish Ministry Officials and several upstanding Swedish businessmen. It wasn’t a widely known fact outside of Sweden but two of the Lund properties had large deposits of Adamantine and one property located along the Sweden-Norway border was a known breeding ground for Norwegian Ridgeback Dragons. Negotiations had been postponed until Christmas holiday so that Anastas could meet his future business partners but several businessmen and the Swedish Ministry stood to make a fortune if the negotiations went well. So the likelihood of any Swede being behind this plot was slim to none. 

Despite their royal pedigree and princely mannerisms, no Family was as vengeful or as ruthless as the Torres Family could be when provoked. Regardless of who was the mastermind behind the attempted kidnapping, the Torres Family would not rest until they found and annihilated that audacious fool.

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While his father brooded outside his room, Anastas was being poked, prodded and studied by a dozen strangers, all of whom were asking him questions or talking at the same exact time.

“Which eye chart is easier for you to read, the chart on the wall here or the chart on the far wall over there?” 

“…look at the shape of these primary feathers! I’ve never seen anyone with feathers like these!” 

“I’m going to put this breathing mask on you and have you breathe in a mist. This will help us determine how much your oxygen capacity has changed.” 

“…think this wing shape falls in between the elliptical-high speed shape or the high speed-soaring shape?” 

He wasn’t sure how long they had been examining him but he was extremely tired. Was it too much to hope they would let him rest soon? Unfortunately it seemed that he would not be allowed any peace until they determined whether he had manifested Veela or Harpy traits. Sighing slightly, he resigned himself to being examined.

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It was a little after noon when Apolinar was shown into the Infirmary by a house elf. Evaristo met his brother halfway, curious to see how things had gone.

“Everything has been taken care of,” Apolinar replied before Evaristo could ask any questions. “How is your son?” 

“Still being examined with great interest, I would venture to say.” Evaristo commented with vague amusement. 

Apolinar nodded. “Father should be here within the hour. Just as we were leaving the Palacio, the Head of the Swedish Department of Trade appeared, looking very worried. Father sent me ahead and will join us after he has assured Mr. Ingesson of Anastas’s health.”

“The news has spread that fast already?” 

“His Change was classified as a level three Maelstrom before a surveillance team was sent and saw that it wasn’t a Maelstrom at all! Until the matter was clarified, half of northern Europe was on alert for a Magical Maelstrom! Can you believe it?” Apolinar exclaimed, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Evaristo glanced around the room and stepped closer, not wanting anyone to overhear. “I think…if I hadn’t had that vision, it would have turned into a Maelstrom. By the time we had reached him, his magic had formed into a semi-solid pillar. Another hour at most and it would have begun to magnetize and after that…” 

Apolinar’s eyes widened, “You really think…?” 

“I do.” 

The two stared at each other, communicating wordlessly for a minute before both looked away. 

“ _Alea iacta est_ ,” Apolinar murmured simply, summing up the situation. (1) 

Evaristo did not reply as he walked back to the table he had been seated at.

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“Well?”

Harpagus smiled at his impatient niece. “He is most certainly not a Veela, my dear. I would suggest you get in contact with Odysseus.” 

Alauda sighed, “I suppose it was too much to hope that he would be a Veela. He has Columbe’s luck Uncle Harpagus, should I fear for the Family?” 

“It will be a trying time no doubt but I think that we could do well with some change.” 

“Perhaps, will you join me? I should inform his father now that we have confirmation of his heritage.” 

Harpagus chuckled, his dark blue eyes dancing in mirth. “I would be honored to offer you my arm and support.” 

Alauda placed her hand on her uncle’s arm and allowed the older man to steer them out of the private room that Anastas had been moved to. The boy had fallen asleep immediately after he had been allowed to rest. Privately, Alauda worried about his well-being. He had endured a number of abrupt changes already and wistful thinking made her hope that his sudden Inheritance would not add to his stress. 

“How is my son?” Evaristo asked, once Alauda had gotten within calling distance. 

“He is sleeping. There have been no ill effects from his Change and he should wake sometime tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.” Alauda replied smoothly. 

Apolinar got to his feet, “I am pleased to hear it, madam. I am Apolinar Torres.” 

Alauda nodded politely. “Welcome to Focalor Aerie, Hereditary Prince. I am Alauda Focalor, the Matriarch of the Focalor Family and this is my Uncle Harpagus Focalor, he is a Veela.” 

While the three exchanged greetings, and in Evaristo’s case introductions, Alauda contemplated how to break the news. 

“Have you determined my son’s Inheritance?” 

Alauda cleared her throat. “After a through examination, we have determined that he is a Harpy. Unfortunately, there have been no Focalor Harpies within the last seventy or so years. I will contact Odysseus Gravari immediately as our Families are aligned, I am certain he would be happy to instruct your son on adapting to his Inheritance.” 

“I see, you have my thanks.” Evaristo replied, politely. 

“Think nothing of it, Anastas is Family after all.” Harpagus gently chided. 

Alauda nodded, “Yes he is. Now if you would excuse me gentlemen, I will Floo Odysseus while Uncle Harpagus speaks with you of other matters.” 

The older man smiled, “Let’s sit, I have much to explain about the…situation. I do not know how much you know about the Focalor Family but I am certain there are things you might have already inferred. We are a Matrilineal Family, something which came about due to the wide gap in power between the females and males born of the Family. In the _Haute Monde_ , this fact is well known and has proven to be advantageous to all. As one might expect, it is not rare that a Focalor should come into a Veela or Harpy Inheritance. Statistically, the odds of coming into Inheritance are higher in the women of the Family but there is one particular exception, which is of great importance and secrecy. Every seventh to ninth generation a male Focalor comes into a Veela or Harpy Inheritance and these males are known as Focalor Hellions. They earned this moniker due to their rare births and the purity of their Inheritance. All Focalor Hellions have twice and, on occasion, three times the magical power and reserves of an average Wizard.”

The connection was obvious and in Evaristo’s case, even more clear as he knew more about his son’s past than anyone else. 

“You believe my nephew is a Focalor Hellion.” Apolinar stated simply. 

Harpagus looked them both in the eye. “There is no doubt in my mind. I too, am a Focalor Hellion after all.” 

Evaristo nodded, understanding. “I see. Have there ever been two Hellions alive at the same time?” 

“It has happened only once before. I’m sure you noted the number of examiners in your son’s room. This is the first occasion we have ever witnessed that a Hellion is born so…prematurely for better lack of a word. I was born nine generations after the last Hellion and records indicate the earliest Hellion was born six generations after the Hellion that came before him. That your son should be born a mere four generations after my birth is quite the mystery. Our scholars have studied the Hellion phenomenon extensively and have yet to find many ways to determine the likelihood of who may become a Hellion. Of a surety, they must have a Focalor ancestor and be of pure magical bloodlines but aside from those two prerequisites, the possibilities are seemingly endless.”

“How intriguing,” Apolinar commented thoughtfully while Evaristo kept his silence. 

Harpagus inwardly frowned, it was clear to him that the young tiercel’s father knew something about why it was possible but he knew that it was very unlikely that the other would say anything yet. He could only hope that after a time, the father or the son would come forward with the information.

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**Holding Cells  
Department of Magical Law Enforcement, British Ministry of Magic, London UK  
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974  
1:02 PM**

 

To say that the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement was in a state of chaos would be putting it too lightly. 

It had begun normally enough, being on duty over the weekend was usually dull and tedious but then all Hades had broken loose. What would have been a dull day of filling out mind-numbing paperwork and going on long patrols had turned into a fiasco. 

First the alarms had gone off, alerting everyone of a developing Maelstrom which had caused controlled panic. Investigation teams had been deployed immediately and then the second surprise of the day had made itself known. There was no developing Maelstrom at all, only the attempted kidnapping and resulting Inheritance of one Anastas Lund-Torres, the Wizarding World’s newest eligible bachelor-- despite being underage. 

Aurors had to be sent out in force to secure the site and take the attempted kidnappers into custody while others were sent to reassure the frightened students on Hogsmeade visit and the equally nervous villagers. By the time everything had been returned to normal, the paperwork that had been generated within that two hour window that had to be at least two feet high. 

The quills hadn’t even been inked yet when Madam Bones had arrived, snapping out orders like a general and sending everyone scrambling. Security in the holding cells was to be increased dramatically and the more pertinent of the paperwork from the attempted kidnapping were to be finished a quarter to one o’clock or heads would roll. Those unlucky enough to be assigned to fill out said paperwork could only wonder at the odd demand. 

However when a group of wizards dressed in the azure and amber robes of the Asturian Royal Guard arrived, any lingering questions were swiftly answered. The Wizard at the front of the group looked as though he was in the throes of cold fury. His hazel eyes looked like molten gold, his body was stiff with anger and his hand clenched and unclenched around the hilt of the massive sword belted to his waist. 

“Where is Madam Bones?” The man snapped, his voice cutting like steel. 

One of the senior Aurors stood up. “Madam Bones is in a conference with Mr. Scrimgeour, the Head of the Aurors. I will retrieve her post-haste, if I may be so bold as to ask who requests her presence?” 

“I am Silvio Torres, Warlord-Prince of Asturias and I have come for the prisoners. Minister Bagnold has already agreed to extradite the prisoners to Asturias and I was commanded by Sovereign Prince Estavan to retrieve and deliver the prisoners to the Royal Prison in Oviedo.” 

Robards froze for a moment. “Er, I will be on my way to alert her to your arrival then, Warlord-Prince.” 

Silvio gestured curtly for the other to get moving. “If you would; there are other matters that require my attention.”

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**Staff Room  
Hogwarts, Scotland  
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974  
1:08 PM**

 

“The last of the tests have been completed. No harm was done to the wards, if anything they have been bolstered rather than damaged.” Dumbledore explained at length to the tense teaching staff. 

Professor McGonagall gaped, “Headmaster…how is it possible that the wards weren’t damaged? You saw what the…display did to the grounds!” 

“I have thought carefully on the matter and have come to the conclusion that the wards absorbed a fair amount of the magic Mr. Lund-Torres was manifesting. Under normal circumstances, the wards would have contained the magic opposed to absorbing it but Mr. Lund-Torres appeared to be spreading his magic outwards. It is my belief that if precautions were not taken by the Focalor Matriarch, his magic would have begun to pull magic from all nearby sources. Without a focus the Change would never have taken place and the magic would have had to find an outlet, which would have likely led to the complete destruction of the Forbidden Forest and possibly Hogwarts or Hogsmeade.” 

“Is it wise to allow the Lund-Torres Heir to return to Hogwarts then?” Professor Sinistra asked nervously. 

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. “The wards are the strongest they have ever been, from what I can tell and what the other Headmasters have told me. I believe that there is little danger in allowing him to return once he has adjusted to his new Inheritance. Personally, Mr. Lund-Torres has such a rigid control of himself that I do not believe he would prove to be a danger to the students.” 

“Headmaster, do you know what Inheritance he came into?” Professor Osborne asked curiously. 

“I cannot say for certain. His coloring would suggest a Veela Inheritance but his wings were the color of rust and that trait is not common for Veela or Harpy. It is possible that he could be a successful cross-breed, that is not unheard of, if extremely rare. More so than the Inheritance I would think. In short, we will know when Sovereign Prince Estavan makes an official announcement. Regardless, things have gotten very complex.” 

Professor Slughorn chortled. “Oh, I cannot wait to see what the _Haute Monde_ makes of this!”

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**Colchester Castle, Wales  
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974  
1:15 PM**

 

Cassius finished his report and watched as Voldemort paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, expressionless. Half of northern Wizarding Europe had been on the alert of a level three Maelstrom and though it had later been called a misreading, very few people knew what exactly had occurred. Not ten minutes after the strange pillar of glowing light that could be seen from both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade had faded; Asturias’ Sovereign Prince and Hereditary Prince had stormed onto the scene and began stifling news of what had taken place. Cassius himself had only learned about what had truly happened because several of his acquaintances at the Ministry had had to cancel their lunch meeting due to the situation. Once he had learned the full truth of what had occurred, he had contacted his Lord and arranged to meet the older wizard at his stronghold to give his report. 

The entire situation had now changed due to this development. It went without saying that the Lund-Torres heir must be brought into their ranks at any and all costs. Before it would have been possible to do without the power and influence he would wield but now, as the stakes had increased, failure to win him to their cause could be fatal. 

It was beyond rare for magical creature blood to fully manifest in a wizard or witch, as wizarding magic often conflicted with creature magic. Minor manifestations were well documented and could often be found in the majority of Pureblood Families. For the Lund-Torres heir to fully manifest a magical creature inheritance, it meant that his magics were both complementary and that he had enough magical reserves within his core to fully support both. 

Now the only question was what creature blood he had manifested. The Lunds had the faintest trace of Elven blood, while the Focalors had both Veela and Harpy blood and if the Torres Family carried any magical creature blood, it was well hidden.

Voldemort came to a halt and turned to face Cassius. “I think… I should like to meet the Lund-Torres heir for myself. See to it that he receives an invitation to the Malfoy festivities this Christmas.” 

“Of course,” Cassius replied slowly, wondering what exactly the cunning wizard had planned.

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**Workroom Notus I  
Focalor Aerie, France  
Sunday the 3rd of November 1974  
9:57 AM**

 

On the edge of sleep and consciousness, Anastas became aware of that presence that had haunted him, waking or sleeping. The only good thing about Azkaban was that it had weakened the visitations to short chats every once in a while opposed to the nightly brushes with temptation that he had been exposed to when he had been free. He had hoped that the dimension hopping had gotten rid of the presence totally but it had been a fool’s dream. 

\- _You look so unhappy to see me brother! Haven’t you missed me at all?_ \- 

Anastas grimaced as the harsh voice. “Must you call me that? And no, I haven’t missed you at all as you very well know. I would happily destroy you if I knew how.” 

Brittle laughter surrounded him as the other spoke. - _He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. (2) All power comes with a price Diablo and my presence is the price you pay for the power you now wield._ -

“Would that I could take back that foolishness on my part.” 

\- _I would have had you sooner or later my beloved brother! Power calls to power and you could not have resisted me for long. Struggle all you like, all it does is tire you and draw us closer and closer together._ -

Anastas shuddered as an icy phantom touch caressed his cheek. 

\- _Someday you will yield yourself to the inevitable and then, we will truly be unstoppable! No one will stand against us and we will be whole, as it was meant to be. That is why I am patient beloved brother; I have all of eternity to wait._ -

Jerking out of reach from that the icy touch, Anastas trembled. “I won’t do it! I won’t give into you! I won’t forsake myself.” 

Mocking laughter poured over him. - _Ah but you already have…_ -

Awareness came in a dizzying rush of feathers, cloth and cold, stone floor. Stumbling to his knees, Anastas shakily ran his hands through his sweaty hair as his breathing slowed back to normal. He despised those conversations as much as he feared them. Desperation had driven him into the arms of that creature once and he worried that another brush with desperation might drive him back to the source of his power. Back to that all too tempting offer and all it would cost him was to allow that creature into him. A small price some might say, but it was not a price he was willing to pay. Not yet and hopefully, never.

Calmed as well as could be expected, Anastas worked up enough energy to examine his surroundings. He was in a dark, sparsely furnished room. The walls gleamed with a variety of runes, all of which served to siphon magic. It didn’t take very long to put one and one together. The Focalors were no one’s fools and wisely had him placed in a room that could siphon his power if he lost control, which was a likely scenario. After all, he’d leveled more than sixty Maelstroms in the world he had left behind. They didn’t call him the Diablo without reason, after all. 

“Ah, you’re awake finally! We were beginning to wonder how much the Change had taken out of you.” An unfamiliar voice called out.

Anastas turned around and peered in the dim light. Standing in the doorway to his room was a gold haired man, dressed in dark gray trousers and a dark blue silk shirt. The shirt clung to his body, subtly emphasizing the muscular torso that was a must for all Harpies, or so he’d overheard from his examiners. The stranger looked to be in his mid-thirties and had a tanned, chiseled face. The way he stood spoke of self-assurance and his black avian eyes observed Anastas shrewdly. 

“I am Odysseus Gravari and I will be your mentor for the foreseeable future. I hope you are as diligent as I have been told; you will need all the mental strength that you can muster to control your new instincts. All Harpies possess a terrible temper and more importantly, we have a natural fixation for justice and fairness, it’s an instinctive drive that has gotten a few of us into some difficult situations. There’s a reason, after all, why no one makes an enemy of a Harpy.” 

“I trust this training also includes a way to hide my wings?” Anastas asked, gesturing over his shoulder at his unwieldy red wings. 

“Oh you’ll do much more than just hide those wings; you’ll learn to fly with them! You are just unlucky enough to need to learn during the winter but I imagine the cold winds and treacherous weather will make you learn quickly and properly.” Odysseus grinned, wickedly. “I see you’ve already managed to destroy your bed but that was expected. Put these rings on and then we can leave. Until I tell you otherwise, you won’t go anywhere without them so get used to it.” 

Anastas sighed; it was going to be a long day.

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**Fourth Year Slytherin Boys Dorm  
Hogwarts, Scotland  
Sunday the 3rd of November 1974  
10:30 AM**

 

Lucius was annoyed, because for the past day, all anyone could manage to talk about was that strange pillar of magic coming from the Forbidden Forest. Students from all the houses had gossiped, exchanging stories and rumors but none of them were close to the truth. If definitely wasn’t a Maelstrom, despite the alarms going off. There was simply, no way that a pillar of magic could turn into a Maelstrom and he knew of no natural magical phenomenon taking that shape. 

Anastas had yet to return from meeting his father and while it was not unheard of for a student to return home on the weekend to attend important family functions, it was a little suspicious that he had yet to return. Yet it seemed a little extreme to say that his friend was involved in the incident. Clever and skilled, he would not put it past Anastas to be able to pull something of that caliber off but the younger boy did not actively seek attention. If Anastas was involved, it meant he had been in a less than ideal situation for him to be willing to make such a grand display. Those who claimed he was too angelic or well-mannered for Slytherin House knew nothing of the calculating and ambitious mind that lived within the princely shell. 

It was one reason Lucius found Anastas so attractive. Malfoys were drawn to power and Anastas had more power than most full grown Wizarding Patriarchs or Matriarchs. With his angelic looks, flawless manners and skilled wizardry Anastas captivated his peers and charmed his elders. It was a masterful role, one that surely would earn him accolades had he been on stage. 

Lucius wanted Anastas and if he were to have any hope in getting him, he would have to work hard and play the game carefully. Anastas was a Prince of the Blood, with bloodlines as pure as arctic snow and a fortune that made other Pureblood Families envious. The odds were already stacked against him but Lucius would not surrender so easily, he would claim Anastas as his husband no matter what he would have to endure. 

A bell chimed, causing Lucius to startle slightly. Turning to his armoire, he opened the silver note box. It was a letter from his brother. Intrigued, he eagerly opened it, if anyone had an idea what was going on it would be his brother and father. 

After he finished reading the letter Lucius wasn’t sure what to think. In a way he was delighted that Anastas was so unique but it also made things more difficult. This revelation would make the fight over Anastas fiercer. Forewarned, he settled on his bed to plot.

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**The Headmaster’s Office  
Hogwarts, Scotland  
Saturday the 23rd of November 1974  
11:00 AM**

 

Anastas scowled slightly as he stepped out of the Floo following his father. Things had not gone as well as he had hoped. Odysseus had not been lying when he had later stated that Harpies had the temperament of a foul tempered low classed demon. Anastas could not remember being so emotional and he had never been a sweet tempered Hufflepuff. It had been overwhelming at first to find that his rigid control had been frayed so badly by the biological changes. 

Suppressing his temper led to wild bursts of accidental magic or his wings making a swift reappearance, ruining his clothing. Odysseus had been close to throttling him and the young Harpy couldn’t blame him. Anastas had managed to learn everything else but controlling his temper and his bursts of Harpy magic had proven to be beyond difficult. It was instinctive to reach out for his Harpy magic when he was angry and so far he had managed to completely destroy six fully furnished rooms as well as completely unbind all the siphoning runes in his temporary bedroom at the Focalor Aerie. 

Having run headfirst into a roadblock the size of Mount Everest, Odysseus had proclaimed him a Squall Harpy and dragged him to Alauda to declare that there simply wasn’t anything more he could teach the younger Harpy. In short, there were two types of Harpies: the Squall Harpies which were known for having violent tempers and excelled in area effect magic of mostly destructive proportions and the Halcyon Harpies which were relatively tranquil and excelled in precise focused magic. 

Halcyon Harpies had much better control over their tempers, unless someone managed to stomp all over their sense of fairness and justice, in which case they were just as dangerous as their Squall counterparts. Squall Harpies would always have problems controlling their temper and often got themselves into trouble when said temper got the best of them. So it was little surprise that they were required to wear vast amounts of siphoning gems. Anastas, as a very young Harpy, had been tested and told very strictly to wear at least thirty of the clear gems every day until he fully matured. 

It came as no surprise that he was irked. He would never be able to have complete control over his temper and now, he would have to wear a trove of siphoning gems daily to boot. 

“Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr. Torres and Mr. Lund-Torres! Your friends will be very pleased to see you again.” The Headmaster greeted as he shook hands with Evaristo. 

Evaristo smiled politely. “Good morning, Headmaster. I hope you are well?” 

“I am in excellent health and spirits, thank you for asking. Please, both of you have a seat and we’ll discuss the arrangements for Mr. Lund-Torres. Would either of you care for tea?” Dumbledore asked as he ushered the two towards his desk. 

“No thank you,” Anastas murmured as he carefully seated himself, careful not to let his new jewelry catch on anything. 

“I am fine, thank you.” 

Dumbledore smiled as he took a seat behind his desk. “The media has been agog for the past three weeks but I know better than to listen to rumor.” 

“The fact that the attempted kidnapping had already leaked to the public caused some…concern about revealing more details about his Inheritance. Father decided it would be best to make announcements after Anastas returned back to school. With Anastas safely away at school no one will have any grounds to make an impromptu visit without offending the Family by acting out of order.” Evaristo explained simply. “There should be a formal report sometime this afternoon although many details have been left out. To be brief, Anastas is a Squall Harpy and has mastered most of the Harpy abilities he has exhibited at this particular time. His moods are mercurial as one can expect but he will be wearing his siphoning gems as he was instructed. Anastas has spent the last week in company and had no extreme losses in control so he should be more than prepared to return to school.” 

“I am happy to hear it. I imagine that the usual arrangements will need to be put in place?” 

“Yes, he will need a private suite with a bedroom, bath, study area and a kitchen or dining area if you can manage it. From what his mentor has told us, Anastas should be fine most days in company but occasionally he will need to separate himself from others. Madame Alauda mentioned that the Focalors should still have a suite here in the castle that should suit him.” 

Dumbledore nodded, “Yes, I believe it is at the top of the South Tower. It has a balcony that overlooks the lake I believe. Now that I know, I shall have the house-elves begin to make it habitable again. They should be finished by dinner at the latest.” 

Evaristo glanced at his son and then the Headmaster. “Very well, I shall take my leave then. If there are any other concerns feel free to contact me. Anastas, walk me to the Entrance Hall. I wish to have a few words with you in private before I take my leave.”

“I will keep that in mind, Mr. Torres. I wish you both a good afternoon.” 

The two left the room and made their way through the school to the Entrance Hall. Evaristo did not stop to speak until they stood on the steps of the school. 

“You will contact me if you are having any problems otherwise, I should like to hear from you weekly about your progress.” 

Anastas nodded, “I will keep you informed.” 

“Good,” Evaristo leaned down and playfully tugged at the chain of siphoning gems which had been artfully braided into Anastas’s hair. “Your grandfather and I have already discussed handling any requests on your behalf. As you already know, your Inheritance will cause a sensation and we expect an increase in requests to open Anterior Courtship Rituals. Try to remain level-headed if you receive any propositions from your peers.” 

“I will do my best but I make no promises.” 

“That’s good enough for me. Take care, my son and beware of those known for bad faith.” Evaristo murmured softly before abruptly stalking away. 

Anastas frowned thoughtfully. It came as no surprise really; the Malfoys had always been at the heart of power struggles. He would keep an eye on his friend and see what exactly the Malfoys might have in store for him.

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Heads turned as Anastas walked into the Slytherin Common Room for the first time in three weeks. Silence immediately fell as people stared. Bristling, Anastas allowed them to look their fill now. It was annoying but everyone would want to have a look at him even if they wouldn’t see the more dramatic changes unless he dropped the Harpy Glamour he had woven around himself. He’d grown a little taller, his hair a little longer and his voice had broken in but those were the only noticeable changes.

Behind him the wall shifted and two familiar voices drifted into the room. 

“- in the Common room or the dorm, I would imagine. Anastas doesn’t like being gawked at.” Severus commented, sounding weary. 

“You would think he would have written to us while he was gone! We are his best friends aren’t we?” Lucius complained before stopping dead in his tracks. 

Anastas turned around, scowling. “Well excuse me for being too busy to write you! It wasn’t like I was on Tour.” 

Severus sighed, feeling a headache coming. “Ignore Lucius, he’s being a whiny brat. How have you been?” 

“Other than being lectured and run to the ground, I’ve been better. They wouldn’t have let me come back if I hadn’t learned to control myself after all.” 

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “So?” 

“So what?” Anastas crossed his arms, irritated. 

“Well aren’t you going to tell us what Inheritance you had?” 

“You’ll find out with everyone else, I’m not supposed to mention anything until then.” 

Lucius grumbled. “Fine. What are your plans for the Christmas break?” 

Anastas relaxed slightly. “I’ll be spending the beginning of break at the Palacio since Grandfather is hosting a Christmas Eve Ball and from the twenty-sixth to the twenty-eighth, father and I will be at the Focalor Aerie. After that, father and I will be returning to his estate in Luarca. He has some plans for a New Year’s Eve Gala but I have not been told what they are yet.” 

“Severus and his family will be joining mine for Christmas Day,” Lucius added not so subtly. “You, of course, are also invited.” 

“I will mention it to father,” Anastas agreed. 

Severus frowned slightly. “Speaking of New Year’s Eve, don’t the Blacks traditionally host a gathering?” 

“They do but Cassius told me that they received an invitation to some grand affair instead.” Lucius confided. 

“I wonder what would qualify as a grand affair to the noble House of Black?” Anastas wondered aloud. “They aren’t haute monde but they are amongst the most esteemed Pureblooded Families in Europe.” 

Severus walked past Anastas. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. No gathering of that caliber can be kept quiet for long.” 

“That’s true,” Anastas agreed as he followed his dark haired friend.

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**Colchester Castle, Wales  
Sunday the 24th of November 1974  
7:00 AM**

 

“A Squall Harpy,” Voldemort murmured, absolutely delighted. “Such an exemplary boy you are, Anastas Lund-Torres!” 

Tossing aside his copy of _The Spanish Navigator_ , Voldemort leaned back in his chair and chuckled. This was a marvelous development! He couldn’t have wished for a better situation to emerge! Had the Lund-Torres Heir been a Veela it wouldn’t have changed the situation much but the fact that he was a Harpy, and a temperamental Squall at that, only made it absolutely necessary to gain the young wizard’s allegiance. Manifesting magical creature blood was rare enough but for the Lund-Torres heir to be a Squall Harpy to boot? 

This clearly was a sign! 

The Harpies had large populations though they were scattered far and wide in small Tempests for the sake of keeping peace. It was a highly kept secret but Voldemort had weaseled it from one of his contacts several years ago when he had first sojourned to the Mediterranean. One in every twenty Harpies was a Squall and when tempests were formed, no more than four Squalls could share a given amount of territory without all out warfare erupting. Famous for their ill temper, their secret was well disguised from outsiders and most importantly, from any would-be wizards who dreamed of the olden days. 

In the days of Ancient Greece, the much smaller Harpy populations had been used by warring Wizard Families to wreck destruction on rivals and allies alike. The Harpies likely would have remained as little more than soldiers had Archelaus the Vengeful not been born. It was said that he was the first Squall Harpy but all agreed that he was easily the most destructive. In twelve hours he had completely destroyed six of the twenty Greek pureblooded Families that had existed at that time, two of which had been descendants of Mesopotamian wizards. None of the remaining Families had protested too much when Archelaus demanded freedom for his brethren and a pact to keep the peace between wizards and Harpies. 

Since the signing of that peace treaty, no wizard or witch had so much as dared to approach the Harpies for fear of inciting another rampage. After learning the closely guarded secret, Voldemort had occasionally considered the possibility of gaining a Harpy ally or perhaps even an alliance with the entire group but until now, had never found a contact that he could approach safely. The Lund-Torres heir was still maturing and if he managed to bait his hook carefully, he might be able to catch the younger wizard unawares and then he could reel him in slowly. 

Voldemort smirked, he loved a good challenge and he was the best at delicate manipulation. This would prove to be both advantageous if done correctly and would amuse him until the rest of his plans came to fruition.

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**The Throne Room  
Palacio d’Asturias, Oviedo, Spain  
Monday the 25th of November 1974  
8:27 AM**

 

“This is getting ridiculous!” Apolinar exclaimed, glaring at the massive stack of letters, invitations and courtship requests set on a table in the center of the room. 

Evaristo crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not **your** home that is getting flooded with this madness.” 

“Be silent both of you, this is hardly the time to argue over trivial things! I had expected the furor to increase but I had not expected this,” Estavan grumbled, gesturing at the stack of paper in front of the three men. “It is a good thing that we had decided on taking pre-emptive measures long ago or things would be far more complicated. I suggest we have the mail sorted, then choose suitable candidates and add them to the guest lists. Anastas can then weed them out as needed based on whatever criteria he has.” 

“How will we choose suitable candidates?” 

“As we always have, begin with those who are _Haute Monde _and then select the rest based on lineage, wealth, power and influence. Do not discriminate in gender or ethnicity but select no candidates over thirty. If you have doubts ask _gran dama_ (great lady), she knows the Pureblooded Families best of all of the Torres’. In the meantime, I will ask Tiziana and the other women in the family to begin plans for a Soiree in April. We will allow those who pass the initial screening to begin the Anterior Courtship Rituals then.” (3)__

__Evaristo gaped, “But that is against tradition!”_ _

__“If we follow tradition, there will not be enough time to deal with the number of people offering proposals. This is the best course of action for the time being.”_ _

__Apolinar sighed, why did Anastas have to make things so complicated? “Let’s get started then.”_ _

__Estavan rose from his throne. “The two of you may begin. I need to speak with your uncle about the security arrangements. No more than four hundred guests are to be added to the Christmas Eve Ball. We do not want the guests to outnumber the guards in any way or fashion.”_ _

__“And how many guests should be invited to the New Year’s Eve Gala?” Evaristo asked wearily, wishing he didn’t have to play host to several hundred strangers who would all have their eye on his son._ _

__“The Villa is the smallest estate so I would say no more than four hundred guests total, excluding family.”_ _

__Evaristo sighed, “Very well.”_ _

__“Best get started my sons, the day grows shorter and time is fleeting.” Estavan joked as he left his sons behind to begin the onerous task of creating a suitable guest list._ _

____

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**The Ballroom  
Palacio d’Asturias, Oviedo, Spain  
Tuesday the 24th of December 1974  
7:00 PM ******

****

****It was a huge gathering with a thousand guests attending the grand event. The Royal Guard had a visible presence in the room and patrolled the ballroom, gardens and hallways in clusters of six. Laughter, conversation and alcohol flowed freely as guests mingled in their luxurious attire.** **

****Three receiving lines had been created so that guests would not be kept waiting too long. Sovereign Prince Estavan and Sovereign Princess Tiziana stood at the head of the first line, Lady Araceli Cardozo Torres, the Princess dowager, greeted guests in the second line and Hereditary Prince Apolinar and his lady wife formed the last line. Inside the ballroom Evaristo, Cyril, Odysseus and Anastas had been stationed to the right side of the ballroom. Those who had hopes of courting the younger wizard would have a clear path to gain an introduction.** **

****Unsurprisingly, it was one of the more heavily guarded portions of the room. After the official statement was released detailing the events that had occurred on the day of Anastas’s Inheritance, security measures had increased significantly around the Torres Family and Anastas particularly. There was no better a marriage or ransom prospect than the young wizard and the Torres Family had always protected their own. Odysseus was present as a friend to the Torres and Focalor Families, though his presence was mostly to act as a restrainer if the young Harpy lost his temper.** **

****Two hours after the Ball began and Anastas was already exhausted. It seemed as if there was no end to the number of guests who wanted an introduction and a few words. Inwardly he shuddered at the prospect of what would happen when the dancing began.** **

****His would-be suitors ranged from awkward, inexperienced teens still in puberty to fully mature adults who had already established themselves. They all came from various places and were from the most affluent Families. Fortunately all were fluent in English or the situation might have been significantly difficult. Already he had noted which would not be suitable and they would be written off later to save room for those who could prove useful to his plans. Not, of course, that he had any intention of getting engaged or married. This was all an elaborate but correct ruse to find the best connections to all the legal and illegal activities going on in the Wizarding World.** **

****The best thing about his Inheritance was that it gave him a perfectly reasonable excuse to be selective about a prospective spouse. As a Squall Harpy, he could never have a successful relationship to anyone who treated him as less than an equal, and a great number of those who had been introduced to him had failed dismally in that regard. He had focused most of his attention on the males who had been presented, as they often had the best connections but a few ambitious females had caught his attention.** **

****Charming Lionel DeMars was a twenty-six year old American Wizard, sole heir to the Sauder-DeMars legacy and currently was aide to the Treasurer of the American Wizarding Ministry. In contrast Li Cheng was a stoic Chinese Wizard, twenty years old and while he was a third son, he was from the oldest Pureblood Family in China. Benito Moreno was the sixteen year old heir to a botanical empire that monopolized all of South America and a vast portion of Southern Asia and Central Europe. Bubbly Deirdre Cassidy was niece to Rufus Ogden, the current owner of the bestselling Firewhisky Brewery in Europe and her distant third cousin was Alyssa Eckhart, the founder of the New Zealand University of Magical Studies. The confident and sly Ryuzaki Kisuke was a twenty-nine year old Wizard whose family was known for their shadier dealings. South African Malik Samara was the second son of a family that made their money through their diamond mine while Sylvester Lafayette’s family made a fortune by owning the largest collection of wand wood groves in the Wizarding World.** **

****It was, most definitely, a wide and varied collection of people whose interests, goals and profits came from different endeavors. All would benefit him in some way or form and he was more than interested in furthering an acquaintance with the frontrunners that had caught his attention. While a good hundred guests were suitable and would make tolerable companions, these eight were particularly intriguing and he wanted to see just how useful they could be to him.** **

****

******TBC in Chapter IV- Celebration II…** ** **

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Notes:

(1) _Alea iacta est_ –A quote attributed to Julius Caesar, roughly it means ‘the die is cast’. In short, in Apolinar’s opinion, they have already passed the point of no return and have no choice but to see what happens. 

(2) This is a quote by Friedich Nietzsche from _Beyond Good and Evil, Aphorism 146_

(3) Estavan refers to his own mother, Lady Araceli as _gran dama_ or great lady. Technically as she is the Princess Dowager (the widow of the former Sovereign Prince of Asturias) she would still be formally called ‘Her Serene Highness, Araceli Cordoza’. However outside of formal situations she is called _gran dama_ to avoid confusion between the current Princess verus the Princess Dowager. 

In retrospect, this is probably confusing to most of you (which wouldn’t surprise me too much as I have been confused thoroughly conducting the research behind royal titles and forms of proper address). All the Torres family members are called a Prince or Princess and styled ‘His or Her Serene Highness’ the major difference being that Estavan is ‘His Serene Highness, the Sovereign Prince of Asturias’ and Apolinar ‘His Serene Highness, the Hereditary Prince of Asturias’. This is modeled after the Liechtenstein Royal family.

I apologize if this may get confusing later on but I want this to be as accurate as possible. I have created a Character Appendix for GI which is available on my group if you’re of age in your state/country or I can send it by e-mail if you would prefer that. I actually have Family Trees constructed but have been having issues loading it to the Group, Visio either hates Yahoo or I’m doing something wrong somewhere. Will work on it if I find the time otherwise I will bite the bullet and re-make them on MS publisher (which works fine with Yahoo).

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While I do love hearing from you all, I do get very sick of ‘OMG U NEED TO UPDATE ASAP!’ that generally makes me irritated and then I find myself wanting to de-stress by reading fanfic opposed to writing it. I really hate to ask for reviews but real life has been kicking me to death and it’s hard to work up the energy to put as much time and research that goes into writing this story. Reviews cheer me up and put me in the mood to work, no matter how difficult the characters or plot are being.

So please, waste two or three minutes of your day and leave me a review! Tell me what you liked, what you didn’t like, what you thought could be better, what you think might happen or ask questions if you’re confused! I write because I enjoy it but it’s no fun if other people aren’t enjoying it as well. 

-SheWolfe7   
First Posted: Feb 24, 2007  
First Revised: Dec 15, 2008  
Second Posted: Dec 31, 2008


	5. Chapter IV: Celebration II

  
Author's notes: Voldemort and Anastas meet, Lucius and Cassius have a chat about determination, a bet between two Squall Harpies is made with Anastas the prize, Princess Dowager Araceli's fears, surprising announcements, Anastas's not-friend belittles our hero, unexpected partycrashers and the night that even bloodshed won't end.  


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A/N: Finally, it is finished! Not betaed so be warned, there may be errors. Thank you so much for the reviews, they definitely helped when I had writer’s block and the characters were being little, uncooperative brats. 

Many thanks go out to Eavia le Fay and Akoya for their help with the plot and characters respectively! Without your feedback, this chapter would not have been possible! 

Text Formatting:   
‘Character thoughts’  
 **Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info**  
 _Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_  
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**Good Intentions  
By: SheWolfe7**

**Chapter IV: Celebration II**

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**The Ballroom  
Palacio d’Asturias, Oviedo, Spain  
Tuesday the 24th of December 1974  
9:20 PM**

 

Apolinar inwardly scowled at the crush of people filling the ballroom. It really was ridiculous to have so many guests attend a celebration. He didn’t envy his nephew. The dancing was scheduled to start at ten o’clock and at midnight the gifts would be opened and half those present would be waiting to personally present Anastas with small tokens of their affection or esteem. Despite the carefree manner of the guests, everyone was just waiting to see how Anastas would react. 

Lavish affairs like these were simply ways to show off one’s wealth, power and influence to others of near or equal status. Tradition dictated the elaborate ways social status was fought over and marriage was among the best ways to aspire to new heights. Those with aspirations of grandeur, or those who drooled at the thought of the Lund fortune, had come from every corner of the world to woo his nephew. Tonight was a family affair of the highest order. It went without saying that the Torres Family would not allow Anastas to be married into any inferior Family. Only those with the purest and most influential pedigrees would be allowed to court Anastas and eventually earn the right to marry him. 

While the champagne flowed freely and polite conversation was exchanged, a more subtle game had already commenced. The would-be suitors had begun to vie for positioning, all eagerly wanting a chance to dance with Anastas and make a good impression in the few minutes they would have alone. Meanwhile the Family had been mobbed with inquires about Anastas as guests pried for the smallest tidbit of information, hoping to find out what exactly the Torres’ were looking for in a spouse for Anastas. Being more than well versed in the word games, Apolinar had politely given nothing away as he mingled among the guests. 

Having made a polite escape to the terrace overlooking the gardens Apolinar had hoped to get a few minutes to himself when an old friend joined him. 

“You look fatigued and it’s not even been three hours yet,” A smooth tenor called out. 

Apolinar glanced over his shoulder, surprised. “Tancred, you’re finally back from your adventure and you didn’t even have the time to tell me! What a horrid friend you are!” 

“You know how things get when I’m away for so long, my correspondence could have filled up a sitting room, easily.” Tancred replied grinning widely.

“There are days where I envy you, old friend. You do as you please and answer to no one, what a life! No pressing duties to drag you out of bed early in the morning, no conniving relations to watch out for and best of all, no wife or children that need your constant attention and guidance. Affairs like these are exhausting but I’ll tell you now, it’s a thousand times worse when you’re related to the prize that’s got all the sharks circling.” 

Tancred snickered, “Even though he’s tender meat no one is going to do anything but watch him for now. There’s no doubt that he’s the best marriage prospect in the _Haute Monde_ but no one’s forgotten what he is either, and no one wants a repeat of what happened in Greece. Aside from the fact that it’s been ages since I saw you last, Uncle Cuthbert all but hounded me to present myself to your nephew.” 

“Tancred…you’re old enough to be his father!” Apolinar sputtered. 

The dark haired man held his hands out in surrender. “ **I** didn’t say I was going to pursue your nephew Apolinar! I’m just making a point that if my lone wolf of an Uncle is trying to marry me off, the world is **surely** ending.” 

Apolinar grimaced, “True, your Uncle despises the thought of marriage and for him to suggest you pursue anyone is…surprising.” 

“That’s not even the worst! His godson is here too and Malfoy will be watching to make sure I present myself to the child. Honestly there are days I wish I had remained an unclaimed orphan.” 

“Don’t talk like that old friend! Come along, I’ll introduce you to Anastas that way the old grouch will leave you alone for a while longer. Though you really should think about getting married, you are the sole heir to the Peverell Family.”

Tancred groaned, “Don’t start Apolinar! I’m only thirty-four and more than capable of siring children!” 

Apolinar chuckled. “You realize, I can’t even imagine you as a father…” 

“That’s fine with me; I’m not looking forward to getting shackled to anyone. Maybe I’ll take a page from your brother’s book and just adopt an Heir.” 

“You’d best hope you get an ordinary foundling then or you’ll be in for a world of trouble and you’ve not nearly enough family to help with the damage control!” Apolinar joked as the two walked back into the ballroom.

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Anastas was distracted to put it lightly. He was surrounded by hundreds of guests, besieged by numerous wizards and witches eager to make his acquaintance and under the hawk eyed gaze of Odysseus and dozens of Asturian Royal Guardsmen. In addition to those annoyances his immediate attention was divided into matching names to faces and rating how useful said guest would be to his goals, and listening to the voices of his therapontes-- who circled the room, reporting interesting conversations they overheard.

Most Harpies had a therapôn, an elemental spirit that served as a sort of familiar and/or companion, depending on the Harpy’s personality. Some, like him, had several therapontes at their service. It was an open secret that the more powerful a Harpy was, the more therapontes they had. 

Archelaus was said to have two dozen, the majority of which were fire spirits and partly the reason why the Squall had been capable of creating so much destruction. All Harpies were naturally attuned to the wind element and the vast majority of Harpies also had a natural affinity to water. Fire and earth affinity were rarer cases, Archelaus being a prime example of the former, but were not unheard of. It was even theorized that it could be possible for a Harpy to have a natural ability to create ice or control lightning. 

Anastas thought the Harpies placed too much emphasis on elemental affinities. Odysseus may have been surprised by his singular affinity for air, as most Squalls had dual affinities; but Anastas had put all his years of Muggle science classes to good use. Anyone could learn to control weather as long as they understood how to create certain weather conditions. In his case, as he only had affinity for air, he used his Wizard magic to heat or cool air currents he controlled using his wind attuned therapontes which allowed him to control moisture condensation and evaporation. Idly, he wondered what Hermione would have thought of him mixing Muggle concepts and applying it to magical situations. 

Brought out of his inner musings, he turned to his right at the prompting of his therapontes. Spotting his Uncle Apolinar approaching with another man in tow behind him, he gestured to two of the guards closest to him while murmuring his apologies to the guests he had just been introduced to. The guards led the two guests away while the others kept the guests waiting for introductions at bay a little longer. Anastas was thankful for the guards whose presence kept the eager guests from acting inappropriately and kept them in a semblance of order, if they hadn’t been assigned to him in such numbers he knew he would be well out of his depth. To his amusement, he had a larger crowd around him than his grandfather who was hosting the event. 

Apolinar grinned as he came to a stop several feet in front of him, “You’re doing well by yourself, where did your father go?” 

“Mr. Ingesson and he went to retrieve some papers I signed the other day.” 

“Ah, well I’m sure he’ll be back in time for the dancing,” Apolinar replied, turning to his friend. “Tancred, this is my nephew Anastas Lund-Torres, nephew this is my good friend Tancred Peverell. I figured I would introduce you both now before the dancing starts and the madness erupts.” 

Anastas rolled his eyes, “That’s one way of putting it! It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Peverell.” 

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Lund-Torres. Are you enjoying the evening so far?” Tancred asked smiling. 

“It has been…interesting, I’ve met a great number of people. I admit this was not how I pictured celebrating Christmas but it is nice to have so many to celebrate with.” 

Tancred smiled knowingly, “I know exactly what you mean, I grew up in a Muggle orphanage too until my Uncle Cuthbert was able to track me down at last when I was all of nine years old.” 

Anastas chuckled softly. “Is that so? Then it seems as though I’m not the only foundling who has stumbled rather blindly into the Wizarding World!” 

“No, you certainly aren’t!” Tancred replied laughing. “Although I’m sure the adjustment was a bit more difficult for you in some ways. You were found much later than I, though you have a great deal more family members to help you adjust than I did. My uncle had only just taken the reins as the Head of the Peverell Family and he told me several years later that it was far easier to track down the son of his cousin than to go through the hassle of finding a suitable wife and having a child of his own to secure the succession.” 

“I sometimes wonder what Father’s reasons are though since he’s a Seer, I dare not ask him outright. In the end I suppose his reasons matter little as the Family has treated me, pardon the pun, like a prince.” 

Apolinar smiled and excused himself, pleased to see the two getting along well. Out of all the guests so far, he would venture that Tancred had received the liveliest response from his nephew. Likely because they had so much in common, Apolinar decided. He had no problems with Tancred pretending to pay court on his nephew, after all neither were really looking for a potential spouse and Tancred was a close friend, he would never really pursue Anastas.

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Watching as Anastas’s father rejoined the boy and politely dismissed Tancred, Lucius scowled darkly. At this moment, he could not hate the heir to the Peverell Family more.

Lucius had known Tancred all his life and had disliked the way the other wizard drew away his father and brother’s attention. Undeniably, Tancred was powerful and talented, as one might expect of someone whose occupation was a Scholar of Ancient Wizarding Rites and Relics. He was an enigma however, one that Lucius had yet to solve. Why would he pursue such a dangerous and exotic career, if he was heir to one of the most prominent Families in Europe? Lucius knew that Tancred was passionate about his work and endlessly fascinated with ancient Wizarding rites and relics. But in some way, he could not help but think that there was more to the older wizard’s fascination with ancient rites and relics than met the eye.

Now, however, was not the time to begin pondering the mystery behind Tancred Peverell. Lucius knew he was lucky to receive an invitation, the Malfoys were not _Haute Monde_ (something that would likely change in another generation or two) and the only direct connection they had to the Torres Family was through Anastas. He had seen Regulus Black briefly, but knew from conversations with the younger boy that his father Orion was well acquainted with Anastas’ father, Evaristo. How they had come to be friends was unknown to both Regulus and he, Orion had attended Hogwarts like all the Blacks before him but Evaristo had been privately tutored here at the Palacio. The latter fact was well known; as Evaristo had been trained by Trophonius Trelawney who, like his mother Cassandra Trelawney, was a gifted Seer. 

“If you decide to meddle, be careful not to get in Tancred’s way, Lucius.” 

Startled out of his musing, Lucius turned and spotted his brother. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Cassius sighed. “I am merely warning you to be cautious. A match between you two would surely be a great stepping stone for the Family but look around you, do you think you can compete with a quarter of these guests? Do you see that family who is being presented right now? They aren’t flaunting their wealth as much as some of the guests but that’s the Delgado Family.”

“The Azorean Royalty?” (1)

“Yes and you’ll recall that they rule a bit differently than traditional monarchies. The King will select an appropriate heir and it doesn’t have to be a legal child for that matter. All but the eldest three are unspoken for and I can guarantee that they’ve set their sight on your friend as a spouse. I don’t doubt for one minute that if one of them managed to sign a marriage contract with the Lund-Torres Heir that they would immediately be named Crown Prince. Do you understand now? I don’t doubt your determination but the true question is whose determination is greater? Yours or someone like them? And don’t think for a moment that there aren’t others with goals like that too. While there are not many Purebloods of Royal pedigree that are unspoken for who seek a match so openly, there **are** hundreds of minor nobles who would be all too pleased to claim a Prince as a spouse.” 

Lucius glared at the people surrounding Anastas, “I won’t give up so easily Cassius.” 

“Good,” Cassius smiled. “Father and I are counting on you. If you need any help, do not hesitate to ask.” 

Without another word the older wizard left, leaving Lucius to ponder what course of action to take next. His best advantage was that he was Anastas’ friend and they attended school together and shared most of the same classes. It was an advantage he would use once school resumed but for now, perhaps the best thing he could do was evaluate his rivals and find any exploitable weaknesses. Satisfied with his current plans, Lucius melted into the crowd of guests, slowly working his way around the cluster of guests around Anastas.

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Estavan smiled as he stood on the dais next to where the orchestra waited. The evening was going well so far and dancing would commence after he finished his speech. Tiziana stood next to him, smiling as she looked over their guests. They waited as the guards cleared the dance floor, the guests moving aside all looking eager. Behind him, he could sense his family and siblings speaking softly. Ten minutes later he stepped forward and addressed his guests.

“Tonight, among friends and family, we have gathered to celebrate! I hope that the food and drink has upheld my Family’s honor and I hope that you will be suitably entertained once the dancing has begun. My Family and Asturias have much to be thankful for as the year comes to an end. Firstly, Asturias has again passed another year with no strife or struggle and the Torres Family remains seated upon the throne! Secondly, the Torres Family has been blessed with good health and our endeavors have proven fruitful. Thirdly, I would extend congratulations to my daughters Her Serene Highnesses Eloisa and Elvira, who will be wed this June here in Oviedo!” Estavan paused here and there, allowing for applause. 

“Finally, my son Evaristo has deigned **at last** to name an Heir, who I am proud to welcome into my family! My grandson Anastas has brought much joy to my household and his marriage will bestow a great honor to the one fortunate enough to win his hand. Tonight among such good company, I have decided to be blunt. The majority of those who grace the Palacio with their presence tonight were invited specifically because of their interest in aligning their Family to mine, via marriage to my grandson Anastas. After careful consideration and consultation with other interested parties, I have chosen to invoke the Amello Clause which will come into effect upon the turn of the New Year.” 

Shock spread across the room at the announcement. 

Estavan glanced around the room with mild amusement. “We will accept invitations to commence Anterior Courtship Rituals from all interested parties who are of marriageable age and no older than thirty years, beginning immediately on January 1st until February 9th. Replies rejecting or accepting ACR proposals will be received no later than March 15th and the first Soiree has been set for Saturday April 19th. As per the Amello Clause, if a contract is signed, marriage may take place as soon as my grandson reaches his sixteenth birthday. Now that I have finished with the announcements, enjoy the rest of the evening!” 

Immediately the orchestra began playing and Estavan led his wife in a pavane. Once they had completed one full circle of the floor, Apolinar and the rest of the Torres’ joined the dance. Anastas had been paired with his older cousin Cyril, who was the Warlord Presumptive, since his father had been paired with his great-grandmother the Princess Dowager. After the pavane ended, Cyril led Anastas back to the dais where Evaristo had the unfortunate task of selecting dance partners for his son.

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Severus resisted the urge to sigh, deeming such an action far too dramatic.

In a way, he truly pitied his best friend. As prideful as Lucius was about his blood and connections, there was no way he would ever have a formal relationship with Anastas. Yes there was a good possibility that he could become Anastas’s lover but there was a vast difference between one’s lover and one’s spouse. There was no way the Torres Family would allow Anastas to choose Lucius over the hundreds, if not thousands, of far more eligible suitors that were already clambering around the young Harpy. 

Not that any of that would stop Lucius, Severus mused. He would bet his gold cauldron that the fact that Anastas was unattainable only added to Lucius’ zeal. Lucius could not be reasoned with; Severus had already tried several times and had lost dismally to Lucius’s stubbornness. If there was one thing he absolutely despised about his best friend, it was the fact that once he was fixated on a task, he could not be swayed. 

Mentally cursing, Severus bowed politely and asked another eligible to dance. Why oh why, had he agreed to help Lucius collect information on potential rivals again? As he swept his partner off into a lively galliard, he promised himself that someday he would learn to tell his best friend no and actually follow through.

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**The Solarium  
Gravari Hall, Pindus Mountains, Greece  
Tuesday the 24th of December 1974  
11:02 PM**

 

Meagara glanced around the room disdainfully, wondering why her parents had accepted the invitation to celebrate with the Gravari Tempest. While the Gravari Harpies were an old and established family, they produced Halcyons more often than Squalls and did not compare to her own family. Practically the only advantage the Gravari Harpies now had was that the current patriarch had been made the mentor of the newest Squall Harpy, the wizard born Anastas Lund-Torres. 

Now he was a truly interesting enigma. Since his Inheritance gossip had spread Tempest to Tempest. While not a purebred Harpy his connection to the Focalor Family made him a little more respectable, although his greatest appeal was the possibility of infusing new blood into an older, established bloodline. To Meagara, the latter was what made the wizard born Squall a possible marriage prospect. 

It would be difficult to meet the Lund-Torres heir though. Considering his familial connections, it went without saying that he would be particularly sought after by other wizards and witches. Having only recently come into his Inheritance, the younger Squall may not have any interest in further entangling himself in Harpy politics when he was already so solidly entrenched in Wizarding intrigue. Of course, there was always the possibility that he would desire a different sort of mate to escape said intrigue but realistically, one would not flee a known situation for an unknown situation. 

Across the room, she glimpsed her hated rival Io whose presence had drawn away her own suitors. The two glared, eyes narrowed in mutual hatred. 

Slender and dark haired, with soft gray eyes, Io’s dark beauty contrasted vividly against her fairer coloring and curvaceous form. Though she was a year older and from a more reputable family, the younger girl was charismatic where she was more austere and formal. To the male Harpies, Io was more approachable as a person and their courtship would be more readily accepted by the dark haired girl’s family. It was little wonder why the two hated each other, they were opposites and as both were Squalls they did not appreciate the other encroaching on what they considered to be their ‘territory’. 

“…spending the day at Focalor Aerie.” 

Meagara turned slightly to the side, the better to hear the conversation between Aglaia Gravari and Theia Pagonis. 

“Have you met your husband’s student?” 

“Not yet, I am looking forward to meeting him. Odysseus has told me some very interesting things about the tiercel.” 

Theia leaned in. “Is he truly a red wing? I’ve never heard of a red winged Harpy.” 

“Odysseus mentioned it but wing colors can take several years to settle properly.” 

Midas Drivakis joined the two older women. “Ah, but it’s said that Archelaus’s wings never changed colors.” 

Aglaia snorted, “Black wings are as common as dandelions.” 

“True, true. Now…if he had been a white wing, that would be a different story.” 

Theia rolled her eyes. “No Harpy has ever been unfortunate enough to be a white wing.” 

“There’s a reason behind him being a red wing, I’m sure of it.” 

“Perhaps it’s because he’s wizard born? I’ve never heard of a wizard born Squall Harpy.” Midas commented. 

Aglaia glanced around the room, “Athena would know, now where has she gone?” 

Meagara frowned as her hair was blown off her shoulder by a not so errant breeze. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Io walking towards her, smiling cheerfully while her gray eyes looked as flat as granite. 

“It doesn’t matter what he is or if there’s significance about his wing color, I’ll have him at my feet like a good puppy.” 

“You’re a fool then. No Squall of good breeding would ever lower themselves to becoming a mate’s toy.” Meagara retorted icily. 

Io laughed, “Do you think you know men that well?” 

“I don’t know men, I know Harpies.” Meagara shot back venomously. 

Io’s eyes darkened at the slur. “I won’t lose him to you.” 

Meagara straightened, “Funny, that’s just what I was thinking.”

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**The Ballroom  
Palacio d’Asturias, Oviedo, Spain  
Tuesday the 24th of December 1974  
10:34 PM**

 

_Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him._ (2)

They were words borrowed from a Muggle novelist. Words her friend had written to her several days after the fall of Grindelwald. And these were the words that had haunted her every moment since she had first read them. 

Araceli Cordozo-- Princess Dowager of the Kingdom of Asturias was, by no means, an innocent to the cruelties of the world and its people. She had never been called a great beauty, the Cordoza Family had ranked at the lower end of the _Haute Monde_ and she had been put through hell when the charming and idealistic Cleto Torres had set his eyes on her, decades ago. Yet she had faced every challenge and every torment with her head high and her mind ready. 

Together they had had devoted their lives to making Asturias the most prestigious, economically secure and beautiful wizarding country in Europe. Many had called them a match made in heaven and through every high and low point of Cleto’s reign, they had never once doubted each other. All of their children had turned out strong, proud and capable of bearing the weight of their birthright. 

The Kingdom of Asturias had existed in its current form, for nearly two and a half thousand years and for two thousand of those years, a Torres had reigned. Their Family had been among the first to settle in Spain and throughout the years they had remained among the strongest Families in Europe. During times of war and times of peace their rule had remained unbroken, though not untried. There had been assassinations and attempts to usurp the throne, by outsiders and Family alike, but no machinations had ever completely upset the Succession. 

While many saw being born into a Royal family as a great boon, few realized how difficult it truly was. Power such as theirs came with a heavy amount of responsibility. Every action and possible reaction had to be considered, every word had to be weighed carefully before being spoken and no matter what happened, one was not allowed to have any visible weakness. To be a Royal meant that one had to set an example for one’s countrymen and yet, still remain approachable. It was a difficult way to live, knowing that the eyes of thousands were always upon you.

Their prestigious bloodline did not make them immune to the darker aspects of the human condition. Power had proven to be their deadliest temptation; few could live without wielding it and some would never be satisfied with what power they held. It was as dangerous as learning to harness wild magic and as addictive as performing Dark Arts. For all their prestige, the Torres Family was not exempt from such temptation. Many times they had taken great risks to increase the power and influence they wielded and so far, they had never suffered for their daring. However, when Araceli had been informed about the circumstances behind her newest great-grandchild’s Adoption, she had to wonder if the Family had finally met their doom.

Anastas had his achievements and virtues sung regularly by the media and he was admired, envied and lusted over by ambitious wizarding Families worldwide. Estavan had accepted him with open arms and Apolinar would have made him his Heir if he didn’t have two sons of his own. It seemed that everyone who met him instantly liked him and Araceli could not help but wonder what exactly it was that Evaristo Saw in Anastas. Despite enjoying his charming and insightful company, there was something about him that made her uneasy. 

Maybe it was the subtle way he avoided gazing at his reflection in any surface that might project his image. Or was it the way he moved silent and graceful, head held high and eyes always watchful? Possibly it was his knowledge which surpassed wizards and witches with a century more practical experience? Could it be the fact that he hid his every thought and motive behind a mask so effortless that few realized it even existed? Perhaps it was a combination of all these oddities but Araceli’s discomfort had increased dramatically, after she had rediscovered that letter and its tormenting quotation. 

The initial unease and wariness that she had felt about her newest great-grandson had snowballed into a nightmarish world of what-if. 

Evaristo knew Anastas like no one else in this world would. A Seer as powerful as he would not only be able to predict the future or reveal the secrets of the past, but his sight would have laid bare Anastas’ soul. Whatever Evaristo had seen of Anastas’s life had convinced him but how much of Anastas’ past had he left unspoken? 

Araceli knew only that he had killed a Dark Lord of great power, one that had nearly destroyed the Wizarding World in his desire to cleanse and rebuild it. Yet how well did Anastas know the wizard he had defeated? How sure was he that this Dark Lord would rise again in this world? Could he be certain that this wizard’s goals were as deadly as the wizard of his past? 

What if things were already different? What if this eventual Dark Lord had new goals? Who could say that he was not different from the Dark Lord Anastas had defeated in his old world? Better yet, who said that there was a Dark Lord on the rise in this world? These thoughts disturbed her almost as badly as the one question that she could not ignore. 

What if Anastas is telling the truth…but is lying about who was the Prophesized hero and who was the Dark Lord?

It was a vicious circle of what-ifs and the only person who could say with certainty what was truth and what was farce was the one person she could not ask. Would never ask. 

Whether he was the Hero or the Villain, Anastas was a murderer. He had killed in the world he left behind and had already bloodied his hands in this world. There was a ruthless savagery well hidden behind his innocent, youthful mask. Araceli had only caught a glimpse of it once but she would never forget the look in those stormy eyes or the way he acted. 

Raw emotion, for once not the feigned emotions of a consummate liar, flickered in those molten eyes and his body bristled with tension, as though he wanted to act but was waiting for that one…perfect…moment! 

It was a stance she was familiar with. Her husband had been an animal lover and had a particular fondness for predators of any species. That image of Anastas was forever imprinted in her mind. In that once moment he had been possessed by a savage joy, his eyes and body fiercely alive and invincible. He had the look of a predator about to pounce on his prey and gorge on a bountiful feast of rich blood and tender flesh. There was no doubt in her mind that the only joy he could feel would be when he watched the spark of life extinguish in his enemy’s eyes. 

And in that one moment, she had realized the truth…

In committing murder he had saved the world…but had fully embraced the loss of his humanity. 

Araceli had never been so horrified…or so afraid for her family.

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Tancred held a glass of champagne in one hand, twirling it idly as he considered his next course of action. Originally he had made many plans to ensnare the Lund-Torres heir’s attention and after meeting the boy, he had to dispose of most of them. Upon his arrival, he had been careful to keep his distance and observe the boy’s interaction with others. To the casual observer’s eye, the boy had acted like what one would expect of a scion of such a prestigious Family. He had been polite, charming and capable of holding a discussion with any of his guests, no matter where they were from.

He had been sorely tempted to try Legilimency but he had not dared in such a large crowd, plus it was likely the boy had been schooled in Occulmency. Tancred wanted to know what he was really thinking and feeling. That calm, charming façade was nothing more than a mask, the youngest Malfoy had said as much in his reports but it would take a keen observer to notice where the façade ended and the real personality began. Irked, he had sought out Apolinar and subtly arranged for an introduction. While they were old friends, they had not had much personal contact in recent years as he had been off conducting research and furthering his aims as Lord Voldemort. Tancred was proud of the number of contacts he had in the Wizarding World, though the majority had no idea of his alter ego or his goals. 

His friendship with Apolinar had definitely come in handy this evening. Had he gone about it the traditional way, he might not have gotten more than a glimpse of the Lund-Torres heir as his attention had been much in demand. Surprisingly, Apolinar had bowed out of their conversation much earlier than might have been considered acceptable, had he been acting as a chaperone. Tancred suspected that his friend viewed his acquaintance with his nephew to be nothing more than innocent. After all, he had long ago cultivated a reputation as a bachelor, much like his Uncle Cuthbert. 

The conversation had been interesting and he had been pleased to see that the younger wizard had not been quite so faithful to his façade. What he saw had pleased him; the boy was intelligent and keenly observant. He would make a very good spy, his presence demanded all the right sort of attention and he was subtle enough to gain information without being obvious. There had been a rare moment or two when he had clearly seen a glimpse of the aggressive Squall Harpy nature that he had toned down for the occasion. Tancred in truth had been impressed that the Lund-Torres heir had managed to keep such tight rein over his temper with such fawning attention being lavished on him. From what he had learned, Harpies did not much like crowds or closed spaces but the younger wizard had been managing well enough. 

Meeting the Lund-Torres heir had convinced him of one thing though, if he wanted to be successful, he could not rush his plans. The boy clearly had his own goals that he was working towards and it would take careful maneuvering to make those goals match his own or make reaching them easier if his goals were fulfilled in the process. Altogether, it was going to be a complicated seduction but Tancred would not accept defeat. He would lure the younger wizard to his side and keep him there. 

Smiling, he finished what remained of his champagne and after discarding his empty glass, went to join the flock of guests surrounding the Lund-Torres heir.

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Accompanied by several guards, Anastas strolled along the large windows that overlooked the lush palace gardens. This was the first time all evening that he had a moment to himself. Odysseus had suggested to his father and grandfather that he be allowed a few breaks away from company to keep his Harpy instincts from causing unseemly scenes. Both had been more than agreeable to the suggestion and all he had to do was signal his guards and he would be ushered away from the crowd of guests.

It had not been too terrible an evening, he supposed. Undoubtedly it could have been much, much worse. He had learned quite a bit this evening through conversations he had been engaged in and those overheard and repeated to him by his therapontes. This evening alone had allowed him to make many valuable contacts and that easily made up for all the annoyances he had experienced. 

The garbled voices of his therapontes caused him to look up, catching his reflection in one of the windows. Hissing slightly in dismay, he narrowed his eyes at the shrouded form standing behind him. 

\- _Someone looks less than thrilled to see me! Now, now…remember we’re not alone so don’t do anything incriminating._ -

Anastas smoothed his expression immediately and shifted his eyes. 

\- _You can’t ignore me forever despite what you think. Our fates are intertwined and nothing can change that now. Wouldn’t it be easier just to accept it and move forward? Or are you so deluded that you think ignoring or running from your problems will make them go away?_ -

Anastas said nothing but then, he didn’t have to say a thing. 

\- _All the years of solitude were worth it, there is no one else better suited for me than you and I think you realize I suit you perfectly as well. It disturbs you, no? We’re two sides of the same coin…some might even call us soul mates!_ -

A crack formed in the window as Anastas suppressed his reaction to **that** comment. Around him the guards shifted nervously. 

It laughed and the cracks in the window grew bigger. - _How entertaining your thoughts are! It makes me jealous of you corporeal life forms, the only pleasure I experience now is through you and sadly you’re too young to keep me entertained properly._ -

The window shattered spectacularly, glass shards spraying outward on to the bushes below the window. Chatter increased behind him as heads turned to see the odd spectacle and the guards, having been duly warned by Odysseus, began to back away slowly. Anastas stood unmoving as strong gusts of wind writhed around his body, tearing at his robes and throwing his hair in disarray. 

A red haze of anger clouded his mind as the wind roared, deafening him to the sounds of his siphoning gems bursting. The maddening chorus of his therapontes ran rampant through his mind as they twisted and twined around his body. They feasted on his power with a single-mindedness that completely blinded them to the fact that they were also unintentionally cutting him with the fine shards of siphoning gems caught in their wake. Within seconds his clothes were shred to pieces, his wings had manifested, and the metallic odor of blood had only pushed him farther into the haze that had taken over his mind. 

\- _Yield to me and I will give you the world and everything in it! Let us be one and you’ll never be alone again…_ \- It coaxed, raspy voice filled with obvious hunger. The momentary weakness of its Host was the moment to force its own plans into motion; this was a singular opportunity it would not miss! - _Embrace me again Diablo...no one else will understand you like I do; no one else can offer you what I can. Yield to me!_ -

“No,” Anastas growled, his voice trembling with rage. “I do not yield to anyone!” 

Before the poisonous voice could retort Anastas’ attention was captured by the voices of his therapontes, all of whom were attempting to warn him of danger just as the wards surrounding the palace grounds flared to life in a wash of rainbow hues. Scrambling to regain a semblance of control Anastas was abruptly shoved by one of Odysseus’ therapontes, causing a magical net to miss him by inches. 

Rolling to his feet Anastas let out a deafening shriek of rage. Fuck control! He was going to tear apart the cocky bastards who thought they could capture him. No one would use him again! No one!

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FLASHBACK  
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Harry laughed as he was surrounded. “You’re so goddamned predictable, Scrimgeour! Even if no one else will tell you straight to your face, you’re a pathetic excuse for a human being! Bagnold was too impetuous, Fudge was a fraud and you-- you’re a poor Minister because you’ll tell the public exactly what they want to hear opposed to what’s **actually** going on! If my hands are bathed in the blood of innocents, your entire body is saturated in it!”

“Your opinion bears no meaning,” The Minister of Magic replied sharply. “You have served your purpose and now you are of no use. Worse than that, you’re a danger to the public and I am acting simply in the interest of the citizens I have sworn to protect. For the safety of the Wizarding World, you need to be contained. Azkaban’s Tartarus Pit is the only place that has any hope in keeping you secured.” 

“If this War couldn’t destroy me, Azkaban sure as hell won’t. Your bones will be dust in a coffin before I breathe my last. I don’t care how long it takes but I’ll promise you this…I’ll pay you back for this treachery someday! You’ll rue the day you crossed me Rufus Scrimgeour!”

The Minister of Magic simply shook his head. “Idle threats mean nothing, Diablo. Take your one last glimpse of the sky, this is the last time you’ll see it in this life.” 

“A month, a year, a century or a millennia…it doesn’t matter, I’ll pay you back for this!”

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END OF FLASHBACK  
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Anastas willingly embraced the fierce rage that he had attempted to keep at bay. Power poured from his body unchecked as he threw himself at the nearest attacker, savagely tearing the other asunder with blades of wind. All rationality fled as sheer animal instinct took control. He would not be challenged by these weak creatures, especially on his territory! Shrieking his superiority he dove blindly into the crowd of guests, who swiftly scattered out of his way, eager to prove his dominance and strength against the intruders who had invaded his territory and attempted to capture him.

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Kisuke was entranced-- a reaction that definitely was not as popular as the rest of the guests who were shocked, horrified or panicked. Not that he honestly could not blame them as few wizards or witches had witnessed the true fury of a Harpy so personally. He hadn’t until today but it was certainly a sight that he would never ever forget.

Of all the invitations he had received that were scheduled for today this had been the most intriguing. It was not the first time he had set foot within the Asturian Royal Palace but it was the first time the rest of his family had deigned to join him. 

Outside of business and the occasional grand fete, his parents and older brothers could not be convinced to travel outside of the country. Kisuke on the other hand, had always enjoyed traveling. He loved to immerse himself in other cultures, to meet new people and make new contacts. As he was a fourth son, his inheritance was little more than a nice bank account and a quaint summer house in Osaka. He was rarely called upon to run errands for the family and was not needed to oversee business like his brothers.

Though he had all the time and freedom to pursue pleasure and amusement, he found with each year that passed that he was becoming bored. Tatsuya, his oldest brother, had suggested that maybe he was beginning to feel the need to settle down. His father Katsumi had suggested that he was in need of a hobby or even a job to regain the focus that was very much absent in his life. His brothers Masao and Hideki on the other hand, believed that he had simply pursued pleasure too much and burned himself out. 

Kisuke scowled mentally, his brothers made it seem as though all he did was seduce foreigners on his travels. Of course, his sisters were just as bad in that sense; they were always romanticizing his trips. They had long ago decided that he was looking for love. Why else would he travel constantly, seeking new people and new sights? To them, it was obvious he was looking for someone to love him and in turn, be loved. He wished that whatever it was he was looking for was as obvious and possibly as easy to attain, as his family made it seem. 

As he had expected the gathering was crowded with the best Families from around the world, the food and drink was exquisite and the best marriage prospect in over a century had half the room captivated. Meeting him had been an interesting experience. The teenage wizard possessed an ethereal beauty and flawless manners it was little wonder so much attention was paid to him. Appearances were deceiving however, there was calculating intelligence in those gray eyes and the way he moved bespoke of power and confidence. The Lund-Torres heir had him captivated, which was not an easy feat. 

Caught in the throw of a rage so potent that half the room had either fled or been rendered immobile, the Lund-Torres heir could not have looked more attractive in Kisuke’s opinion. Wind and power caressed his lithe form as he flit around the room, a shower of blood here and there the only signs of his passage as he neatly disposed of the intruders. Glancing around the room he could see that this wild display of violence and power, while horrifying and shocking many, would ultimately increase the furor that followed the Lund-Torres heir. 

Whether they chased after his looks, bloodlines, fortune, or power, the hunt had only just begun and no one would back down without a fight. Kisuke included.

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**The Balcony  
Basurto Hall, Fortaleza, Brazil  
Tuesday the 24th of December 1974  
9:08 PM**

 

“Luiz we have lost contact with the extraction squad.” 

The man leaning against the balcony merely sighed, “I thought as much. Diego is far too hot-headed. Tell the rest of our operatives to retreat for the time being, I will not chance discovery at this time. The Torres Family will be out for blood once things have calmed down and with their connections, we cannot expect to remain hidden much longer.”

“I will pass on your orders.” 

“Tell the runners to add Diego’s name to the black book. His punishment shall serve as an example for the rest of our brethren.” 

The messenger did not speak, merely bowed and left. 

Luiz turned and watched the sun set over the ocean. “I have great plans for the Wizarding World Squall, and you will help me achieve them. _A sorte boa meus filhos pode a mais melhor vitória do homem_!” (3)

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Ballroom  
Palacio d’Asturias, Oviedo, Spain  
Wednesday the 25th of December 1974  
12:10 AM**

 

“This is the absolute **worse** thing that could have happened!” Tiziana despaired, gesturing weakly at the bloody scene taking place behind them. 

Estavan patted his wife’s hand, “I admit, this is not a situation we could have predicted but, at the least, the guests are unharmed.” 

Silvio scoffed, “Forget for a moment that we are hosting some of the finest Families in the Wizarding World and consider the fact that someone is either foolish enough, or audacious enough, to attempt a kidnapping here at the Palacio! This has been the stronghold of our Family for two thousand years! That someone would dare this and worse yet, breach our wards is troubling!” 

“What do you propose we do, Odysseus? Is there any way to contain him now that he has utterly lost himself?” Evaristo asked, worriedly. 

“At this time, I think it best we simply keep out of his way. He seemed unsettled even before the breaching of the wards. The fact that these attackers attempted to capture him has driven him into a territorial killing frenzy. At the moment, he will not rest until he has dealt with the intruders. After that we will see what state of mind he is in and then act.” Odysseus calmly stated. 

Apolinar scowled. “Do we assume that the source of this attack is the same as the others?”

“For the sake of Asturias, I pray that is so.” Cyril said grimly. “There are many reasons why Anastas is such a tempting target and it will make identifying and dealing with his attackers even more difficult if there are more than mind behind these attempts. That our best spies have yet to discover so much as a rumor about these attacks is troubling but that another attack should come so soon, and one so bold is ominous.” 

Estavan sighed, “What do you propose we do, brother?” 

“New security measures must be put into place to secure the Torres properties, a thorough examination of the servants and guards will be conducted and it is clear that if Anastas is their goal, he must be assigned trustworthy and diligent guards.” Silvio listed firmly. “These are matters that I can see to; you on the other hand, have a far more difficult task. You must gain aid in our investigation through your political contacts and make it clear that the Torres Family is strong and not to be preyed upon. That someone would dare to attempt to abduct a Prince, not once but four times now, is an offense that cannot and should not, be tolerated! I will assign more men to the investigation, after this attempt, it is clear that whoever is behind the kidnapping attempts is deadly serious.” 

Estavan nodded tensely. “I will handle the affairs of the state and begin initiating contact with my allies and reliable sources. Apolinar, I want you to personally oversee the investigation. Evaristo please meditate about the current…issues, any clues you might discover would be much appreciated. Odysseus if you have any information about any enemies to the Harpies or any organizations within that might view my grandson as a threat, I would ask you to share that information with us.” 

“If there are any outside groups that are enemy to the Harpies, they have gone deeply to ground. Within the Harpies, there are certainly many that would find your grandson a target but it goes against our nature to plan something this…underhanded. We prefer direct confrontations. However, I will check with other Tempests and review the records of life before Archelaus.” 

Estavan nodded, “That would be most helpful. Now, let us get this situation under control. I must leave immediately to evaluate the state of the wards as they are bound directly to me. Cyril if you would, organize the Royal Guardsmen and please begin evacuating the remaining guests from the ballroom while the women see to their nerves. Silvio, have your most trusted men secure the…remains for further inspection. Evaristo, Apolinar and Odysseus, I leave the matter of Anastas in your capable hands.” 

Odysseus drew a deep breath, “Let us approach him calmly and slowly. You he will see as family but how he reacts to me will show us what his state of mind is like. Use extreme caution.”

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At the other end of the room, Araceli was frozen in horror. Like most of their guests, she had been captivated by the bloody display taking place in front of her.

This was what he truly was beneath that civilized, ever-so polite veneer. He was a demon in the flesh of a human. He did not walk. No, he glided on the very air itself at speeds that boggled the mind. It reminded her of a diving Peregrine Falcon, a blur in the air as it dropped down on its unsuspecting prey at speeds that were simply unfathomable for a living creature. 

The truly horrifying thing was that he never once spoke words of magic, never once waved his wand. He was surrounded by shimmering, elfin-faced specters that flew through the air with obvious zeal. Araceli could see their mouths moving but she could not hear them, was happy that she couldn’t. By the cruel expressions that crossed their faces, they were enjoying ripping apart Anastas’ attackers. 

What could Evaristo have possibly seen that could convince him that this demon would further the ambitions of the Torres Family?

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

As quickly as he had lost his rationality, Anastas regained it as swiftly as flipping a switch. He blinked for a moment, not quite understanding what had happened. Oh he remembered what he had done, could almost taste the metallic tang of blood on his taste buds, but it was hard to piece together those fractured events into one seamless memory.

Glancing down at himself he noticed that what little clothing remaining on his body, shredded and gaping here and there in an unseemly manner, only just managed to preserve his dignity in public. Slivers of glass and shards from his siphoning gems were tangled in his now unevenly shorn hair and ruffled feathers. Nearly every inch of skin on his body was covered in minuscule cuts and abrasions, leaving his skin dyed as red as his wings. 

His therapontes fluttered around the room in a motion sickness inducing display of aerial acrobatics. Their voices bombarded him with information, as was their nature. Why he had attracted such talkative, detail orientated therapontes he would never know but from what he remembered, they made amazing fighters. 

:: Stop that, it’s annoying! :: Anastas told them, glancing around the room which was still filled with guests. :: You’ve eaten so much of my energy that you’re visible even to the normally blind humans. ::

:: So happy Master! ::

:: Delicious power! ::

:: Not hungry for a long time! ::

:: No one will hurt Master now… ::

Rolling his eyes, Anastas gave up on chastising them. Obviously they were so drunk on having eaten so well that they weren’t going to listen very well to his orders outside of another life-threatening situation anyway. Redirecting his attention, he decided to see how much damage he had caused while lost to his animal instinct. Somehow he had managed to break the remaining windows; the decorations had been either ripped clear off the walls or were hanging drunkenly and a rather interesting amount of blood was splattered or pooled at various points around the room. 

Fortunately he hadn’t attacked any guests, which would have been a nightmarish situation to resolve if he had. Who knows what they might have demanded as restitution! 

:: The Sword Bearer comes to your right, Master. :: 

“Come back to yourself at last, I see.” Silvio commented wryly. 

Anastas turned, sighing. “I didn’t mean to lose control.” 

“It was not an unexpected scenario, though the addition of these would-be kidnappers likely provoked you further.” Silvio said dismissively. 

“Something like that yes,” Anastas answered. “Where is everyone?” 

“Estavan went to check the wards, Tiziana and your great-grandmother will attempt to lead the guests to the Dining Hall, assuming they’ll go when they can watch this spectacle instead. Apolinar and Evaristo took your mentor to the Infirmary. It seems he got a little too close when you were still berserk. Fortunately, it’s nothing too serious, just a few deep cuts.”

Anastas winced. “Ah,”

Silvio smiled slightly, “Don’t worry about him too much. He admitted that he should have been more cautious. You may be a young Squall Harpy but you view the Palacio as your territory and he is a Halcyon Harpy in his prime, visiting. As you were already on edge, it would have been better not to go near you. Now that we know you’re territorial, we’ll have to be more careful with our guests in the future as there are some with magical creature blood like yourself that might rouse your territorial instincts. In any event, unintended or not, you certainly know how to make a gathering memorable, Anastas! People will be talking about this for years.” 

“Indeed,” Evaristo agreed as he joined them, looking mildly amused. “Let’s get you cleaned up. If you were hoping to escape the rest of the festivities you are sadly mistaken, my son.” 

“Well I won’t complain about getting cleaned up, I’m a mess. Will I want to mingle after I’m dressed again is another thing,” Anastas commented, subtly glancing at the guests who were watching him even more intently, if such a thing was possible. 

Evaristo chuckled and steered Anastas out of the room, several Royal Guardsmen clearing a path for them. Silvio just shook his head and began directing the remaining Guardsmen to herd the guests out of the room while his best secured the bodies for further examination. It was going to be a long holiday if this evening was anything to go by.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

Notes:

(1) Azorean Royalty- In real life, the Azores are made up of nine islands. In this story there’s ten and the tenth is purely populated by Wizards and Witches. It’s a Monarchy, as mentioned. I’m going with that because of the time of the settlement and all that. More about it later in the story very probably. 

2) This is a quote by Fyodor Dostoevsky, the Russian novelist. (1821 - 1881) 

3) Roughly I intended it to be: “Good luck my sons, may the best man win.” Thank you Schwarze Eule for correcting my initial translation! This is supposed to be Portuguese by the way. 

Before anyone asks, if you missed it, Voldemort’s identity is Tancred Peverell. In this world he doesn’t go by his birth name of Tom Marvolo Riddle and instead was given a new name. He did not attend Hogwarts either for that matter. His aforementioned Uncle Cuthbert is Abraxas Malfoy’s Godfather (not Godfather to Cassius) which should, obviously, explain his connection to the Malfoys and why Cassius has a bit more breathing space around him. 

In conclusion, there are a lot of different people plotting. I would have liked to write about the other gatherings that took place over the holiday but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. There will likely be flashbacks in the next chapter about the Focalor gathering and possibly Evaristo’s New Year’s Eve Gala. 

I don’t want to give away too much information (lest I change it later) but now you’ve got a bit of a glimpse about who is behind the kidnapping attempts. Whether there’s more than one person/group behind it, I’ll let you come to your own conclusions. 

-SheWolfe7   
First Posted: (6-23-2007)  
First Revision: (12-24-08)  
Second Posted: (12-31-08)


	6. Chapter V: Delusion

  
Author's notes: A polite Family discussion, the fiend and shocking truths, introducing the Azorean Princes, Slytherin preparations, the Gala, the anticipated announcement, Perverll aspirations and interlude with the Fiend.  


* * *

A/N: This chapter is 35 pages long which would be about two chapters smushed into one. Not bad for a four month wait. Not beta’ed so forgive mistakes.

**VERY IMPORTANT NOTE- There is a very large plot twist in this chapter that will very likely have some of you going ‘WTF?’ I would like to emphasize ahead of time that NOTHING is what it seems so PLEASE keep that in mind.**

Text Formatting:   
‘Character thoughts’  
 **Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info**  
 _Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_  
\- _Parseltongue_ -  
:: Telepathy ::

* * *

**Good Intentions  
By: SheWolfe7**

* * *

Chapter V: Delusion

* * *

**The Receiving Room  
Palacio d’Asturias, Oveido, Spain  
Friday the 27th of December 1974  
2:07 PM**

Evaristo was relieved that he had insisted on adding to the Privacy Wards before beginning their…discussion. It was rather surprising how a dozen people could make the gigantic Receiving Room, seem small. Of course, their raised voices filled the room just as well as if there had been hundreds of guests present. It was an impressive feat, truly. There were several arguments taking place, most using considerable volume, yet all the people present somehow managed not to be distracted from their individual arguing. 

Near the fireplace, his father engaged in a heated debate with his uncle and cousin about the merits of canceling the New Year’s Eve Gala. 

“It’s too late to cancel such a large gathering on such short notice!” Estavan shouted. 

Silvio’s eyes were narrowed with annoyance. “Brother, unless you would risk the lives of your guests and our family again, I would advise that we cancel the gathering until we gather more information about who is behind the kidnapping attempts!” 

“The New Year’s Eve Gala was to serve one purpose and one purpose only, to reveal the details of Anastas’ inheritance so that potential suitors could include a prospective marriage contract with their Anterior Courtship Rituals proposals. We could just as easily release the information to a trusted Wizarding Publication and avoid the potential dangers of hosting a gathering entirely.” Cyril pointed out reasonably. 

Estavan opened his mouth to reply and Evaristo quickly turned his attention to the next argument. This one was of a less serious nature, in his opinion, but it was one that was long overdue.

“Anastas has been re-instated into the Family and I will not have it said that he was not acknowledged fully! There is no shame in deeding him Montrose Hall, it was originally given to my brother Columbe and now, it rightfully should be given back to his Heir!” Alauda snapped. 

Apolinar looked pained. “Madam Folcalor, I am not disputing you the right to act as you see fit in regards to a kinsman. I must protest however, the other…gift that you would give him! It would make the courtship madness a thousand times worse!” 

“Every Prince and Princess born to the Torres Family has a coronet, just as every Patriarch or Matriach of a Family has a ring, and every Focolar Hellion is given an account with Gringotts! What right do you have to deny him his legacy?” 

“I am not denying his legacy! I simply do not believe it wise at this time to announce the reason why he was given such a portion of the Focalor fortune! A million Galleons may be nothing more than a stipend to those Families who are of the _haute monde_ but when one adds that money to Anastas’ overall fortune, it only increases his desirability!”

Alauda snorted. “A million Galleons is a pittance compared to how much money Anastas makes annually!” 

Shaking his head, Evaristo resisted the urge to sigh, not that anyone would have heard him over all the noise. Why his brother even bothered to argue with Madam Focalor he did not know. The Matriarch was correct after all, the addition of a million Galleons and another estate would not halt the madness that would erupt when Anastas’ inheritance was announced. 

Near the windows a more potentially dangerous conversation was taking place. Odysseus had decided after the incident on Christmas Eve that it would be best to find Anastas a more suitable mentor. The incident itself had been noticeable and had drawn the attention of the Harpy Council which in turn, had led to one of the Elders becoming Anastas’ new mentor. Elder Asikis was a Squall Harpy in the prime of his life, with thick, waist-length black hair and vivid eyes the color of a churning ocean. 

“…Fly twice a day and I was told to wear thirty Siphoning Gems. In the privacy of my rooms at school and when I have no public outings planned, I don’t bother keeping to a purely human form.” 

“Good, you have sense.” Elder Asikis commented. “Truthfully, it may be best if you withdrew from your Wizarding schooling until you have gained more control over your abilities. The training Odysseus gave you was very basic compared to the training a Squall Harpy should receive. In light of the nature of your newest therapontes, it is imperative that you fully harness the power they will give you. At the rate you are developing, you truly need the additional training or you may never fully express the potential of your therapontes. Few Harpies are like yourself, whose power lies in their therapontes more so than themselves. Individual power will never be as dangerous as the full might of a well trained Harpy who has good rapport with their therapontes.” 

Anastas frowned slightly, “How long would this extra training take me to master?” 

“It varies greatly from Squall to Squall and considering how unique your therapontes are, it could take anywhere from several months to several years. Possibly even decades.” Odysseus answered. 

Elder Asikis nodded, “In addition to that, I could not teach you here. You would have to return with me to Asikis Hall. It has been heavily warded over the years to contain Squalls as they learn to master their powers. It would be pure foolishness not to fully develop your power now before it settles completely.” 

Anastas hummed thoughtfully. “You have a point and it is not as though I am in any danger of falling behind in my Wizarding studies. It is a matter worth further discussion and after the recent…disturbances there have been concerns about my returning to a less than secure educational facility. Can you tell me more about Asikis Hall?” 

“Of course, that is understandable. The Hall is located in the Rhodope Mountains and the oldest portion of the Hall was first erected in the months after Archelaus the Vengeful won our freedom from the Warrior-Mages…” 

Evaristo made a note to observe the rest of their conversation as he turned his gaze to the final argument taking place. This particular argument, or discussion as the ladies claimed, he would not have any part of, at least not at this particular time.

“The Najafian Family is worth a little over 5.3 billion galleons as I recall and make their galleons in both worlds. They are the sole suppliers of Re’em goods and they own a substantial number of oil fields in the Middle East. I would think an alliance with them would be the most profitable for both our Families.” Isabella suggested, calmly. 

“Money is not everything though,” Tiziana pointed out. “The Li Family from China is the oldest Pureblooded family in Asia and make their fortune through the trade of luxury magical creature goods. A better match could not be found, truly.” 

Ariande Sardelis, Silvio’s wife, shook her head. “Too much emphasis is placed on money and bloodlines; I truly believe that we should focus our attention on influence for this particular match! The Grecian Liatos are masters of the Arts and have made their fortune through that craft, the Cargenven of northern Wales are not only miners of magical ores and harvesters of unique crystals but considered to be the best Mage-Smiths in the Wizarding World, and the Irungu of Africa number in the thousands and are the foremost experts in magics involved in the fields of Herbology and Healing. A scion of any of those reputable Families would best serve Anastas as a spouse!”

“Ladies, we could spend the next decade arguing over semantics about who would be the best match for Anastas. At this time, I think we should save the arguments until after we receive the Anterior Courtship Ritual requests, then and only then can we weight the worthiness of each potential suitor. As we are all well aware, once news of Anastas’ Inheritance is released we can expect all sorts of outrageous ACR proposals. Let us save our energy for the viewing of the proposals and the selection process itself.” Araceli interjected before the conversation could get any more heated or out of hand. 

A loud banging on the doors finally ended all the arguments taking place in the room. Estavan looked very irritated as he called for whoever was outside the doors to enter. 

Alfonso, Alpolinar’s oldest son, stepped into the room. “I know that you said that you weren’t to be disturbed but Great-grandfather Illarion has just arrived.” 

“What?!” Estavan exclaimed as he hurriedly got to his feet. 

Evaristo sighed; it looked like the arguments had only just begun. Joy. 

“Ah, I will excuse myself then.” Anastas commented darkly as he stalked out of the room without another word. 

Apolinar groaned softly. “Damn it.”

* * *

Anastas wasted no time, the moment he stepped outside of the Palacio, he let his temper have rein. His clothes shredded as his wings burst from his back and without sparing a look at the gawking guards, he stormed to the Royal Training Hall. The building quickly emptied once the off duty Guardsmen noticed his foul temper. Summoning a sword off a weapon stand, Anastas cast an Animation Charm on the training dummy and began taking his frustrations out on it. 

He let his instincts guide him as he danced that familiar lethal dance of metal and spell, his body moving with fluid grace. The sound of metal crashing against metal and spells sizzling in the air soothed a savage part of him that he kept buried deep within. It sickened him in a way. He never felt more alive than when he was skirting danger, with his heart racing and blood pounding in his veins. How he would love to place the blame on that insidious fiend who had granted him power but no— that savage bloodthirsty part of him had existed long before he had ever touched that godforsaken faux book. 

Snarling with a mixture of anger and self-disgust, Anastas cast aside his sword and wand and threw himself physically at the moving training dummy. Throwing wild punches and kicks, Anastas chuckled at himself. God what a sick bastard he was! Pain was the one constant of his life, the single thing that he understood intrinsically and, oddly enough, the only thing that ever cleared his mind from all vicious thoughts that circled inside his head without end and without answers. 

\- _I resent that, pain is not the only constant in your life!_ \- 

Anastas stumbled backward a few steps, hands instinctively reaching up to his bloodied nose. - _Speak of the devil and he will appear…couldn’t you keep your damned thoughts to yourself until later?_ -

A spine tingle inducing laugh caressed his mind. - _Why wait until later when you’re so deliciously vulnerable now? You yourself call me an insidious fiend so why shouldn’t I live up to that delightful designation?_ \- 

Dodging a swipe at his legs, Anastas countered with a low kick. - _The ancients may have worshiped you as some creation made by a higher being, but you’ll never be anything more than a sanity destroying leech! I was nothing more than a desperate, guilt-stricken fool driven into a corner, unable to resist the temptation of power until it was too late._ \- 

\- _You left out broken, suicidal and damaged goods._ \- The voice chided with dark humor. - _Regardless of what you are and what you think I am there is one absolute truth and that is simple. You. Are. MINE. Freedom has done nothing but allow you to cripple yourself further and it begins to irk me and need I remind you what happens when I am irked?_ \- 

Anastas forced the dummy back by the strength of his chest strike. - _There were days when I thought Voldemort was the greatest danger to my sanity but now I know better. The two of you are greatly alike in that way._ \- 

\- _There is some truth in that._ \- The voice stated slowly. - _I am what he wished to be and he had what I wanted._ \- 

\- _And I stood between you both, fighting a war on two fronts._ \- 

\- _Such bitter thoughts, can it be you feel some regret?_ \- 

Pain blossomed in Anastas’ abdomen, the foot of the dummy having made a direct strike, one he hadn’t bothered to dodge. - _The only thing I regret is going to Rasha’ule and finding you._ \- 

\- _Without my aid you would be dead!_ \- 

\- _It matters little; I stopped living long before we ever met._ \- 

Goosebumps crawled along his belly in response to the cool, barely there phantom caress. - _How you charm me with your morbid thoughts and twisted fragility. I long for the days when I may possess you in full and those days come closer and closer the more you struggle against me._ \- 

CRUNCH! Anastas bit his lip as he felt his left arm break. - _Destroy me later; I tire of your cryptic prattling._ \- 

\- _I will leave you alone for the time being but you’d best get your arm fixed. Delude yourself as you desire, fight me as you will and draw us ever closer…_ \- 

As he felt the other fade from his senses, Anastas felt a subtle shift in his mind and then he was lost, immersed in a memory he willingly kept buried.

* * *

FLASHBACK

* * *

**November 2004**

Elation pulsed through every fiber of this being. The task was done! Voldemort was dead and now, now he would finally be free to find whatever solace he would be allowed!

With sure steps, he navigated the broken and ash covered plain that had served as the site of the final duel between the two enemies. Everything around him was a wasteland but he paid it no mind. Nature would heal this ravaged, blood soaked plain and the lingering imprint of destructive magic that tainted the very air would fade with time. 

Once he had gotten a fair distance away from the worst of the devastation, Harry reached into his robes and drew the dagger that Peter Pettigrew had used during the ritual to restore Voldemort to a corporeal form. Weighing the dagger, he idly pondered what to do. The human body had so many vulnerable spots after all and how he died matter little so long as he did. It would be quickest perhaps if he slit his throat but did he deserve a quick death after all that he had done? He remembered watching a Japanese movie long ago and quickly decided that committing seppuku would be fitting. Having reached his decision, Harry closed his eyes and lowered the dagger, turning the point inward. Just as the tip of the blade pierced his abdomen, his hand literally froze. 

\- _What do you think you’re doing?!?!_ \- 

Harry’s eyes snapped open, startled. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m fulfilling the rest of our bargain.” 

\- _You owe me._ \- 

“I already paid you in part, remember? You agreed that Voldemort’s life would suit and now that he’s dead, I owe you a body. I’ve killed enough so the only body I have to offer you is my own.” 

\- _Apparently you didn’t listen carefully to what I said. I told you that all power has a price and that the power I gave you would require one life and one body. Voldemort was the life yes but the other…_ \- 

Harry frowned, “If not my body whose would you have?” 

\- _Do you always jump to conclusions? I allowed you let Voldemort’s life serve that portion of our bargain because that was something that you needed to keep your sanity. You are right, it is your body that I want but it does not require your death. That is not what I want._ \- 

“What? But you always talked of having a body for yourself!” 

\- _…I want many things Harry but the thing I want foremost is simply, you._ \- 

Harry blinked, “You can’t have me and have a body! You said yourself when I asked that there can’t be a consciousness in the body or you wouldn’t have possession of it. That would mean that my consciousness would have to be destroyed or released or something!” 

The voice sighed with obvious frustration. - _You are amazingly blind at times. While your body is very lovely, and I do look forward to claiming it, you do not understand. I have been enhancing your body, unlocking all sorts of hidden potential and when I finish making these adjustments, your consciousness will go into a stasis. That’s when I can safely transfer myself to a new host without killing you._ \- 

“But that’s so much work!” 

\- _Yes it is, but it’s the only way we can be together!_ \- 

“I can’t live with myself! The things I’ve done and the people I’ve killed…” Harry choked, bile rising in his throat. 

\- _Surely after all we’ve been through you can trust me to help you through this? You’re so afraid to be alone and if you do this, you’ll never be alone again. I promise you that._ -

Harry’s eyes dropped down to the dagger in his hand. “I’m so tired…”

Phantom arms wrapped around his body. - _I know but it’s all over now. Let me take care of everything…just stay with me, that’s all I ask._ -

“Make me forget it all! I don’t want to remember what’s happened, never ever.” 

\- _I will erase what I can and the rest I will bury but all of this will take time. Be strong for a while longer and I will do my best for you as I always have and as I always will. Now I want you to throw that dagger away and go somewhere to get those wounds of yours looked at._ -

* * *

END FLASHBACK

* * *

Numb with a mixture of horror and shock, he could only stare vacantly at the ceiling as the memories washed over him. As he lay on the floor of the Royal Training Hall with blood drying on his face and his arm pulsing with pain, Anastas could feel tears pooling in his eyes.

The fiend was right about one thing, he **did** delude himself and he would continue to do so because he couldn’t handle the truth. Every time he remembered the truth in all it’s stark reality, his mind would come one step closer to shattering completely. So they had done the only thing available to insure that both of them would survive. All those years spent in Azkaban the two of them had fabricated the life he viewed as truth, piece by delicate piece, and rooted the ‘memories’ so deeply that they had completely re-shaped his mind and gave it a semblance of stability. 

Anastas chuckled brokenly. He was a Slytherin to the core without a doubt! Anyone who tried to read his mind would find nothing but the identity and memories they had created. There was not a hint of manipulation anywhere in his surface thoughts that would lead anyone to think that what they saw was not in fact, truth. Only someone very determined and strong in Legimency would uncover the truth. His mind was as fragile as a spider’s web and at the heart of that web, which lay deeper than even the subconscious, wrapped in a cocoon was a mangled corpse that represented truth. 

It took a combination of physical pain, a large dose of masochism, and the fiend to drag that corpse into the light.

\- _You should thank me again, and remind me why I put up with this twisted charade._ \- A faintly amused voice commented. 

“It amuses you…sometimes.” 

\- _Only sometimes yes, most of the time it’s terribly depressing._ –

“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what grand scheme you’ve plotted that ends with the two of us not so tangled up in each other? Preferably without shattering my sanity again?” 

\- _I have some ideas but it’s too soon to say for certain which idea will work out best. What you’re doing will suit my plans so I think it’s time for you to forget everything again._ –

Anastas grumbled, “When will it be safe for me to remember all of this?” 

\- _You know that you won’t ever be able to remember everything. I couldn’t erase the worst of the memories because they’re tied to the power that you accepted from me. The only things you will remember clearly and without too much editing is what happened after the final battle and what we did to you in Azkaban._ -

“I know all of that. You remind me on the rare occasions you let me remember.” 

\- _Then you should stop asking. I’ll let you remember when the time is right and not a minute sooner. We’ve wasted enough time, take better care of yourself._ -

“Have I told you that you have a terrible sense of humor? Seriously, activating my dormant Harpy blood?” 

Mirthful laughter washed over his senses. - _It was too hard to resist but at least it’s useful, right?_ -

“Stressful I would say,” Anastas began but was cut off by a splitting pain stabbing through his mind and then there was only darkness. (1)

* * *

“Hmm, he’s more temperamental than I had expected.” Elder Asikis commented dryly as he was escorted out of the Palacio. 

Evaristo rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tense muscles. “My Grandfather does not approve of my decision to Adopt an Heir and has made his displeasure known. Upon my mother’s death, I inherited her dowered properties and Grandfather Illarion has been incensed at the idea that those estates shall go to my son and heir.” 

“Magical Adoption has existed since the beginning of our civilization, why he so strongly disapproves of the practice, I do not know.” Silvio replied sharply. “In fact, some of the greatest Wizards and Witches in our history were Adopted, Merlin was and no one looks down upon him.” 

“He needs to begin his training as soon as possible, the longer he goes without the proper training, the more danger he poses to others. Odysseus briefed me about the recent…turmoil in your household but if you truly want to avoid another incident, Anastas must be trained.” Asikis urged Evaristo. 

Evaristo sighed as they reached the gates. “His training has become the most important concern at the moment. All the other matters can be dealt with, in time. There is at least one obligation that must be dispatched before he can begin his training though.” 

Silvio sighed, “I can’t believe you still want to go through with that blasted Gala!” 

“There is no choice but if it is of any comfort to you, nothing ill will take place. Focus your attention on the security arrangements; I will have my hands full with the would-be suitors.” Evaristo said wryly. “Elder Asikis, you may come for Anastas on the afternoon of the First.” 

“Very well, though if you wish for him to attend this Gala, I would be happy to provide a few of my own guards to prevent any other…incidents from occuring.” 

“They would be most welcome, thank you.” 

“It is no matter, I shall select them this evening and meet with you again tomorrow afternoon to discuss the security arrangements.” 

“That would be most helpful,” Silvio agreed cautiously. 

Elder Asikis chuckled, “There is no need to be wary of me. I have nothing but the best intentions. It would do none of us well should the young tiercel lose control of himself and start another rampage. I am offering my aid simply to prevent any possible repercussions between our peoples.” 

“No matter your reasons, the offer is most appreciated.” 

“I will speak with you both tomorrow then, good afternoon gentlemen.”

* * *

**The Shining Garden  
Rose Arbor Palace, Paraíso Island, Azores  
Monday the 30th of December 1974  
8:55 PM**

Calixto wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else but here, trapped in yet another gathering of courtiers engaging in sly word games and false fawning. The gardens looked as though they were inhabited by overgrown butterflies, what with the courtiers dressed in vibrant colors, drifting lazily from one group of guests to the next. Fortunately, as it was winter, only his father’s favored nobles had been invited. Still, the night would prove to be tedious. How could it be anything else when there was only one topic available for conversation? 

“Prince Calixto, I’ve been looking for you all evening!” A stern voice called out behind him. 

Calixto suppressed the urge to groan. Damn it! He thought the hideous statue of Lygia the Bashful would provide sufficient cover from the courtiers, especially his father’s chief advisor Lord Milazar. Said advisor was as taciturn as a marble statue, more observant than a bloody watchdog and loathed disorder and misbehavior! 

Turning, he smiled politely at the stoic man. “Lord Milazar, I apologize for the trouble I have caused you.” 

“Truthfully, I should be relieved that you even bothered to join us this evening. I wanted to have a word with you about tomorrow night.” 

“You are referring to the Torres gathering?” 

Lord Milazar flayed him with a dark look, “Of course that is what I am referring to!”

Calixto nodded slowly, inwardly wincing. He’d forgotten how the older wizard disliked having the obvious pointed out. “You were saying?” 

“Your father, His Royal Highness, has asked me to remind you that your attendance at the Torres gathering tomorrow night is mandatory.” 

“I remember.” 

“Good. He will be expecting you in his study tomorrow evening at a quarter to five o’clock to brief you further about what will be expected of you.” 

Calixto nodded again and Lord Milazar excused himself, no doubt leaving to report to the King that he’d spoken to the wayward Prince. Scowling, Calixto headed back to the central gardens. Obviously, there was no point hiding. It wasn’t long before he spotted his younger brother Thierry. 

“Why are you scowling?” 

“Lord Milazar, need I say more?” 

Thierry sighed, “You know, father wouldn’t send Lord Milazar to talk to you so much if you would just do your duty.” 

Calixto glanced around warily and then, seeing that there was no one near enough to eavesdrop, spoke his mind. “How is seducing a thirteen year old boy, considered ‘doing my duty’?!” 

“Prince Anastas is constantly surrounded by guards and chaperones, how could **anyone** possibly seduce the boy! Even if you managed to sign a marriage contract with him, you wouldn’t be allowed to so much as kiss him on the lips until the wedding! Calixto, you’re utterly hopeless! A ten year age difference is hardly something to balk at in our circles, need I remind you?” Thierry commented, exasperated. “Even if you aren’t interested in marrying him, it can’t hurt to at least get to know him a little. He’s attractive, if you’re into fair coloring, and even if he is only thirteen he’s intelligent enough to make you forget that fact.” 

“I don’t like it,” Calixto replied, grouchily. 

Thierry frowned, “Well you’re going to have to get used to it Calixto! Father has desired stronger ties to the Asturian Royalty ever since Prince Estavan gained renown as a Diplomat. He’s all but shoved Maël into Prince Alfonso’s arms at every gathering since Prince Alfonso reached marriageable age four years ago. Realistically, a marriage to Prince Alfonso would be more politically sound but marriage to Prince Anastas has its own unique benefits and father would rather have those benefits than direct ties to a future ruling monarch.” 

“It’s ridiculous!”

“No, it’s common sense.” A new voice interjected, causing the two brothers to turn around in surprise. 

“Damn it Casimiro, do you always have to sneak around like a thief?” Calixto complained, returning his wand back to the sheath he wore on his arm. 

Casimiro shook his head, his honey gold eyes amused. “It is not my fault if you are too absorbed in your…indignation to notice my arrival. Be happy that it was me and not Lord Milazar or worse, father who overheard your discussion.” 

“Do you think you can talk some sense into him? I’m supposed to speak to Lord Taffarel about the repairs to the East Wing.” Thierry said before abruptly leaving the two older wizards alone. 

Neither spoke for a few minutes, Casimiro gazing at his younger half-brother while Calixto shifted restlessly in place. 

“You’re taking this too personally, Calixto. The Torres Family won’t let just anyone pay court on Prince Anastas and you can be damned sure that they’ll thoroughly investigate each and every potential suitor. Father allows you more freedom than the rest of us but it is time that you fulfill your obligations to the family. Even if you are paying him Court, there is no guarantee that you will be among the select few who will have their ACR proposal accepted.”

Calixto visibly deflated. “You’re right of course, both of you are. I just can’t help but…compare the situations.” 

“The situations are vastly different. For one thing, if someone did manage to isolate Prince Anastas and attempt to…force the issue, he would very likely rip them to shreds and no one would so much as bat an eye.” Casimiro replied, amused. “It’s a shame you didn’t attend last week’s gathering, he gave quite the…show of force.” 

“Thierry told me as much.” 

Casimiro chuckled. “I felt bad for him actually, everyone was even more eager to dance attendance on him after that messy affair. Truthfully Calixto, I have doubts that the Torres’ would find Thierry, Maël, Denzel, Aimery or you a suitable spouse for Prince Anastas. Our blood is not as pure as theirs but more importantly, there are other would-be suitors who have both purer blood and better connections than we do. I do not know what sort of match they would hope to make but I doubt that they would be satisfied with a simple marriage between two small nations when they can make a greater alliance.” 

Calixto frowned, “Think what you will but I cannot help but think that there is some deeper game afoot. I don’t like this situation at all.” 

“Of course there is, we are all members of the _haute monde_ are we not? Ulterior motives are simply expected. As the Torres Family is Royalty, one can also add politics and subterfuge to the list. Every soiree and gathering is a dangerous game Calixto, the only thing that changes are the players and the prize.”

* * *

**The Formal Drawing Room  
Torres Villa, Luarca, Spain  
Tuesday the 31st of December 1974  
5:00 PM**

“You will make quite the…impression tonight.” Evaristo commented at last, discomfort obvious. 

Anastas shrugged, sensing his adopted father’s discomfort. “Truthfully, it’s far more comfortable and practical, to wear these Harpy garments.” 

Evaristo merely shook his head. The strange scarf-like wrapping the Harpies favored showed too much skin in his opinion. He supposed it was simply a modified Palla. They were worn wrapped behind the neck, crossed over the torso to cover the nipples (or breasts, if one was a woman) and were either tied or pinned behind the back. Evaristo hadn’t met very many Harpies, so he couldn’t be sure what materials or patterns they usually wore but Anastas had ordered dozens of those body scarves made in many materials and sporting various designs and adornments. Tonight he had chosen a rich black velvet scarf decorated with strands of siphoning gems, which swung and caressed his skin. Anastas no doubt selected it to act as a contrast against his fair coloring and his dark red wings. 

“You’re certain you want to attend the Gala like that?” Evaristo asked, hesitant. 

“It’s slightly easier to control my temper with my wings extended like this. Plus it serves several purposes, it reminds the guests what I am, which should significantly cut down on the fawning, and it reminds them that I have power that should not be trifled with. They covet me for whatever reason they choose but it’s important that they know that I am the one in control. Despite my age or my appearance, I am strong and not someone to be manipulated or controlled.” 

Evaristo frowned, “You are a Prince…it would be foolish of them to condescend to you.” 

“Never underestimate the stupidity or superiority complex of other humans, Father. Even amongst the lofty members of the _haute monde_ there are fools. In these circles, bloodlines may mean a great deal but deep down everyone desires power. We all play power games but only a select few will ever play the games that change the Wizarding World. There is very little that I am unwilling to commit to in order to see my goals fulfilled but it will take time and subtlety. I will not rush needlessly and that will make all the difference in the end.” Anastas explained with surety. 

Sensing his son’s conviction, Evaristo only nodded before glancing at a nearby clock. “It is almost time for the rest of the family to arrive. I can only wonder what they will make of you.” 

Anastas smiled at his father, “They will each see what they wish to see.” 

Turning his attention back to the window he had been gazing out of, Anastas returned to his introspection. Since his strange blackout on Friday he had not been feeling like himself. Smiling faintly, he recalled the panic that had ensued when he had been discovered by his Cousin Cyril. They had almost canceled the Gala then and there, fearing that he had been attacked by some unseen assailant, but Anastas waved off their concern, admitting that he had gotten distracted in the middle of a spar with one of the training dummies. After being duly chastised, he hadn’t been able to so much as step outside of his rooms without several bodyguards trailing him around. 

Anastas had not yet been to any other estates his father owned, as the Torres Villa was his main residence, but he could only wonder how much more grand the others were. The Palacio was a regal fortress made of shining ivory marble and was laden with some of the most beautiful gardens in all of Europe. It was a home befitting royalty and it towered over Oviedo like a silent, watchful guardian. In comparison, the Torres Villa was one of the smaller estates, only having four above ground floors and forty guest bedrooms. Of course, it could accommodate several hundred guests easily as it had been built with clever re-sizing charms which expanded all rooms as needed. It had two hundred House-elves bound to it, all of whom cooked, cleaned and maintained the Villa, the extraneous buildings on the grounds, and the massive gardens on the property.

The double doors swung open, admitting the rest of the Royal family who came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Anastas. 

Tiziana looked as though she was about to faint, “What are you thinking?!” 

“This is the fastest way to weed all the unsuitable would-be suitors. In addition to that, it also lessens the likelihood of my causing another incident and it is a display of power which should give me the advantage. Only the very cream of the _haute monde_ and close friends of the family were invited to tonight’s Gala but we all know what madness will erupt once news of my full inheritance is announced. I am simply taking my own precautions to best find a suitable future spouse. As most of you can guess, I hardly need to marry for money or influence.” 

No one could argue that point, though Anastas noted that a few of his relatives certainly looked as though they wanted to. Evaristo simply gestured for everyone to enter; all did so though some strode through with obvious reluctance. The next fifteen minutes were spent exchanging pleasantries while everyone seated themselves and refreshments were passed around. 

Silvio waited for a lull in the conversation before gently interrupting. “Let us discuss the security arrangements tonight. After the incident that took place at the Palacio, I personally oversaw the reinforcement of the wards here at Torres Villa. I have stationed an additional two hundred guards within the Villa itself and there will be six teams of Griffin Handlers patrolling outside the Villa. All the guests will arrive via time delayed Portkey and depart similarly. The Floo Network has been completely blocked off for the evening and a temporary Anti-Apparition Ward has been erected over the entire estate. The walls surrounding the estate are in defensive lockdown, no one may pass through the gates and I pity any fool who tries to fly over them. To be utterly blunt, nothing less than an army will get through the defenses and with all the Ward Towers in Asturias active, no army could so much as tiptoe across our borders without setting off the signal. We are perfectly safe tonight.” 

“Excellent and very well executed considering you only had a few days to make all the additional arrangements,” Estavan praised, grinning. 

“It was nothing,” Silvio dismissed. “I did not make all the arrangements alone after all, Cyril handled most of it.” 

“I will be certain to give him my compliments when I return to the Palacio. The plans for this evening are similar to most New Year’s Eve Galas we have thrown over the years. Save for one thing, at a quarter to midnight, I will make the announcements regarding Anastas’ inheritance. Until I make the announcement, no one is to say a word about the properties, monies or conditions of a suitable marriage contract. As we are all family and trustworthy, I will tell you some of the information now.” 

Silvio quickly checked the room and then erected a strong Privacy Barrier. 

“Anastas will inherit a total of eight estates, of them five are Lund estates, two are Torres estates and one is a Focalor estate formerly held by his great-grandfather Columbe. There are four estates in Sweden, one in the United States, one in Spain, one in France and one in Russia. Anastas has a total of seven accounts with Gringotts, three are Lund accounts, three are Torres accounts and one is a Focalor account. There are four vaults located with Gringotts, three of which are Lund vaults. Anastas has two Investment accounts with the Dahl Group and one with the Mercer Company. The Mercer Company is also charged with four separate Diversified Stock accounts. Anastas also owns two Adamantine Mines, a dragon preserve, a botanicals garden, a chain of luxury wizarding hotels and a very profitable Muggle conglomerate based in Sweden. Have I missed anything?” Estavan asked, looking at Anastas. (2)

The Harpy shook his head. “No, that’s everything as of this year anyway. I haven’t yet decided what investments I will make next year but I will be sure to let you know when I finalize them.” 

“Of course,” Estavan agreed before returning to the subject at hand. “As most of his funds are constantly changing, I will only declare to the guests his total net worth with Gringotts and the number of estates he stands to inherit. I don’t want to be accused of giving the guests tonight too much of an advantage. That rough estimate would be about 1.52 billion galleons by the way.” 

Mercedes Torres, Estavan’s younger sister, sputtered. “1.52 **billion** galleons?!” 

“That’s enough money to buy out a country!” Miles Scrivenor exclaimed, helpfully offering his handkerchief to his fiancée Elvira, who dabbed at the wine dripping down her chin. 

Apolinar smiled slightly, “The sharks will be doing more than circling soon. With a fortune that sizeable, including the benefits of being a Prince of Asturias and a Lord of the Realm, the suitors will be salivating.” 

Eloisa’s fiancé Baldassare snorted, “As the sole heir to the Lund fortune Anastas has one of the largest independent fortunes in the Wizarding World, a fact that all are aware of. The addition of estates and monies from both the Torres and Folcalor Families has only made a future match more…enticing. You are right to expect a furor; I can honestly say that there has not been such a marriageable prospect in centuries, easily.” 

“Enjoy the night while you may,” Estavan commented with amusement. “Once I make the announcement, I have my doubts that any of us will have much rest. We will stand together as we always have and we will weather this particular storm as we have others.” 

“Indeed,” Evaristo agreed. 

Alfonso laughed. “Well, now I suppose I don’t have to be too worried about being mobbed by suitors!” 

“Don’t think that, everyone with a connection to the Family will likely be just as plagued as Anastas will be. You forget that the suitors will be attempting to win over any allies that they can from the Family.” Isabella warned her oldest son. 

Anastas glanced around the room, wearily. “Tonight will be a trial but I fear the forthcoming months and possibly years will be the most tedious of my life! Let us pray that I find someone suitable soon or we all may go mad.” 

Silvio chuckled, “Well said!”

* * *

**The Drawing Room  
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, UK  
Tuesday the 31st of December 1974  
5:29 PM**

Severus glared at his friend, who was smoothing his robes for the hundredth time in the last hour. “Must you continue to act like an imbecile? Your robes are immaculate, your hair is perfect, and you are the very image of a respectable wizard!” 

Lucius had to force his hands down to his sides. “I apologize if I am nervous but tonight is a very important night!” 

“Yes, yes we all know.” Regulus Black intoned, rolling his eyes. “Tonight is the night that the Torres Family will announce the exact details of Anastas’ inheritance and make any stipulations they deem necessary before all the Anterior Courtship Ritual proposals may be submitted the following day.” 

Sirius sulked at the far end of the room, “I don’t know why everyone is making such a fuss. I mean everyone **knows** he’s filthy rich and he’s a Squall Harpy, but it’s not like half of them stand a chance anyway. He’s a Prince!” 

“Even if three quarters of the Wizarding World is unsuitable, that won’t stop anyone from trying.” Regulus pointed out, irritated. “Father even stooped low enough to tell you that he’ll be submitting an ACR in your name even though I’m eligible and the better choice.” 

“Like I’d want to marry that git!” Sirius exclaimed, shuddering.

Severus snorted, “No, you’ve only eyes for James Potter.”

Sirius flushed, gray eyes narrowed. “We’re friends and nothing more! Though I’m sure the two of you have a vested interest in tonight’s announcement.” 

Lucius glared, “Keep your damn mouth shut, Black!” 

“You’re a fool if you think you stand a chance Lucius! You may be one of his closest friends but your blood isn’t blue enough to even grace the circles he walks in on a daily basis!” 

Severus quickly interceded. “Be quiet the both of you or you’ll bring the combined wrath of our parents down on our heads! We’re all of us going to be submitted whether we want to be or not.” 

“I could not have said it better myself,” Abraxas Malfoy commented as he strode into the room with the other adults behind him, silver eyes annoyed. “All of you are of marriageable age now and should stop acting like children. Tonight you will be in the presence of some of the greatest pureblood Families in the Wizarding World and each of you will be representing your own prestigious bloodlines. Act like you are now and you’ll become a laughingstock.” 

Orion Black glared at his oldest son. “I don’t care if you despise the Lund-Torres heir, Sirius. You will not jeopardize the friendship I have cultivated with his father with your uncouth behavior and your foolish schoolboy antics. The Torres Family are of Royal blood and if you make an enemy of them, that is your business but do not drag the rest of the family down with you! For tonight I would ask that you leave your foolish Gryffindor recklessness behind you, lest you dig yourself deeper into some pit you won’t be able to find your way out of!”

Sirius shot his father an irritated look but did not speak. 

Severus relaxed slightly in response, the last thing they needed tonight was for Black to mortally offend the rest of the Torres Family. 

“Tonight’s Gala is a singular opportunity for all of you,” Eileen reminded them. “We will be in mixed company with close associates of the Torres Family and some of the greatest pureblooded families. Alliances can be sealed with more than matrimony, I assure you. Similar interests have led to many a business or political partnership, so I would advise you all to mingle amongst the other guests of your age and converse at length.” 

Abraxas focused in on his son, “Lucius what are the titles of each member of the Royal Asturian Family and where their main residences are?” 

“His Serene Highness, the Sovereign Prince of Asturias, Prince Estavan’s main residence is the Palacio d’Asturies located in Oviedo. His Serene Highness, the Hereditary Prince of Asturias, Prince Apolinar is also the Duke of Xixión and his main residence is Torres Hall in Xixión. His Serene Highness, Prince Pascual is the Duke of Mieres and his former principle residence was Torres Manse in Turon. His Serene Highness, Prince Evaristo is the Duke of Valdés and his main residence is Torres Villa, located in Luarca. Her Serene Highness, Princess Eloisa is the Duchess of Aller and her main residence is Torres Manor in Caborana. Her Serene Highness, Princess Elvira is the Duchess of Laviana and her main residence is Torres Tower in Villoria. His Serene Highness Prince Alfonso is the Lord of Cangues d’Onis and his residence is the Antiguo Palacio which is located in Cangues d’Onis. His Serene Highness Prince Guiomar has not yet received a title, nor has His Serene Highness, Prince Anastas. Both will likely be titled on their eighteenth birthday as Asturian tradition dictates. Warlord-Prince Silvio is the Duke of Biscay and his main residence is Alcazar Torres which is located somewhere in the Cantabrian Mountains.” (3) 

“Correct. Severus please summarize Shui Luo-shan’s recent address to the Potion Master’s Guild.” Eileen prompted. 

“Master Shui has spent the last forty years studying the use of powdered Dragon eggshell in various potions and by various dragon species. He proposes that the shell of a Ukrainian Ironbelly is best used as a base for volatile potions, while the shell of an Antipodean Opaleye acts as a stabilizer in medical potions. Hungarian Horntail shells are best used to enhance the potency of potions while Peruvian Vipertooth shells cannot be used as anything other than a thickening reagent. The addition of Chinese Fireball shells generally acts as a catalyst and they are the hardest eggshells to retrieve. Shells from the Hebridean Black and the Welsh Greens are commonly used in potions with Transfigurating effects, while the Swedish Short-snout and the Norwegian Ridgeback shells are best used in cosmetic potions.” 

Orion nodded, “Very good. Sirius, tell me which four Quidditch teams are in the semi-finals for the Quidditch World Cup and where the games will be played.” 

“The final four teams are Portugal, New Zealand, Canada and Peru. The first semi-final is between Canada and Portugal, no decision has been reached about where it’ll be played. The second game between New Zealand and Peru is going to be played in Peru.” 

“Yes, though the first semi-finals will be played in Canada, according to an associate of mine. Regulus I want you to recite the current line of succession to the Asturian throne up to the twelfth in line. ” 

“Prince Apolinar currently is the Hereditary Heir to the throne. After him are his eldest son Prince Alfonso, and then his second son, Prince Guiomar. Prince Pascual is no longer in line to the throne due to his marriage to Olivier Sauvageon, who is currently fourth in line to the French Throne. Likewise, their son Simon is also ineligible. Prince Evaristo is fifth in line to the throne. Since the Torres Family is Patrilineal and favors True-born heirs, Prince Estavan’s twin daughters and their eventual children are also ineligible to inherit the throne. So the sixth in line is Warlord-Prince Silvio, followed by his only son Cyril, who is Warlord presumptive at this moment. Eighth in line to the throne is Cyril’s oldest son Fausto who would be succeeded by his brother Agustin and then Cleto. As there are no more direct True-born male heirs to the throne only then would Prince Anastas become eligible to inherit as he would be the only remaining Torres male of the primary line. Should the entire primary line become defunct, the throne would then revert to the secondary line, that of Prince Renato who is younger brother to the previous Sovereign Prince of Asturias, Prince Cleto. The twelfth in line to the throne would be Prince Vasco.” (4)

Abraxas smiled widely. “Very good! Lucius, tell me where the European Wizengamot will meet two weeks from tomorrow and why.” 

“They will meet in Amsterdam to discuss the Werder Trade Act and the current policy with Gringotts Bank International.” 

Sirius resisted the urge to sigh, wonderful now they would spend the rest of the night until it was time to take the Portkey to the Gala, reciting useless information in preparation for wasting the night in pointless conversation with a bunch of stuck up purebloods. How he hated his family at times…

* * *

**Torres Villa, Luarca, Spain  
Tuesday the 31st of December 1974  
5:50 PM**

Anastas steeled himself as he took a position next to his father. The guests were due to begin arriving in less than five minutes and the guards were being extremely vigilant. Unlike the previous Ball, there would be four receiving lines. His Grandparents and his father and he, would each form two receiving lines and would greet the most prestigious of their guests. His Uncle Apolinar and Aunt Isabella, along with his Great-grandmother Araceli would greet the close friends of the Family that had been invited. 

The Portkey arrivals had been staggered to five minute intervals, all of the guests arriving at one of three separate destinations. Dozens of guards would keep the lines orderly and move things along as swiftly as possible. Introductions would be brief and to the point, introductions would be made, the invitation would be exchanged for identifying party favors and the guests would enter the ballroom. If all went well, it shouldn’t take longer than an hour for all the guests to be granted entrance into the ballroom. The Gala itself would continue until two a.m. and likely the ACR proposals would begin arriving sometime around dawn. Earlier if not for the stipulations that would need to be filled before they would accept the proposals but that was another thing entirely.

Captain Renaldo, the Captain of his father’s personal Guard, quickly saluted his father. “All is well and the guests are due to arrive in less than two minutes, your Serene Highness.” 

“Very good Captain Renaldo, I will await your next report in half an hour’s time then.” Evaristo commented before quickly turning his attention to the Harpy Captain also waiting to report. 

Zayle Asikis, one of Elder Asikis’ many sons, smiled. “My men detect no activity that is not expected.” 

“Thank you, Master Asikis. Again, I am in your father’s debt for offering such support on such short notice.” 

“It is nothing, as he has said; this is merely the best way to prevent any unpleasantness for both our respective peoples. I am happy enough to be here.” Zayle answered smiling at Anastas. 

Anastas stiffened slightly knowing the older Squall was not antagonizing him, quite the opposite actually, considering the rather…lingering looks he graced Anastas with. Zayle stepped back two paces, having noted the effect he had on the younger Squall and calmly turned his attention back to the duty he had been given, personally overseeing the younger Squall. 

Even if his father hadn’t ordered him, Zayle likely would have been happy to do it simply to observe the new Squall Harpy. There had been a great deal of speculation about the wizard born Squall but Zayle was happy to see that all those rumors about the young tiercel being powerful were true. He was much too young yet but in seven or eight years, the new Squall would make a very attractive potential mate. That was, if he was still unattached and Zayle knew very well that the odds were quite good that the tiercel would be. The Wizards may mate young but Harpies generally did not take mates until well into their thirties. Courtship and dalliances might begin early but life-long mating would not occur for a decade or more.

A bell chimed, announcing the arrival of the guests. Evaristo smiled encouragingly at his son before turning his attention to the first of their guests. Anastas took a deep breath, let the games begin!

* * *

Estavan smiled brightly, “Old friend, I see that Niall was finally able to convince you to drag yourself out of the smithy!” 

Aodh Cargenven mock glared at the Asturian Prince from his lofty height. “I’ve always been an honest, hardworking man Estavan. I’m not fit for these ridiculous parties, well as you know. My tongue is as sharp as the weapons I forge and has cut many an arrogant dandy’s ego to ribbons.” 

“Or charmed a handsome devil with your honesty,” Niall teased his gruff husband as he passed their invitation to Tiziana who chuckled at their antics. 

Aodh grinned wickedly, his dark green eyes gleaming. “It wasn’t my tongue that charmed you!” 

Tiziana laughed outright as she held out a tray with two cups, holding what looked like white mints. Sharing a look, the two each took a cup and swallowed the mints. Almost instantly, a white osprey appeared on the back of their dominant hands, signifying that they had been invited. 

“Enjoy the evening, my friends!”

* * *

“Evening Apolinar,” Tancred greeted as he passed his invitation to Isabella. 

Apolinar grinned. “I’m surprised to see you here; I’d have thought that you would have hurried off on another adventure after dispatching your duty!” 

“My appearance at one gathering would hardly please my Uncle and well you know it! I figure, if I am to be tortured into attending these gatherings, I might as well attend one where I can at least have a decent conversation! Unlike some gatherings, those held by your family generally have guests both of breeding and good sense!” Tancred joked. 

Isabella smiled as she held out a tray. “I’m sure that you will find someone worth speaking to tonight.” 

“Oh I’m sure I will,” Tancred agreed as he accepted the cup.

* * *

“Good evening, Mr. Ryuzaki is it?” Araceli greeted. 

Kisuke bowed, “Quite correct, Serene Highness. I am Ryuzaki Kisuke.” 

“You’re alone?” Araceli commented as she accepted his invitation. 

“My family had other obligations tonight,” Kisuke answered with a smile. “I was happy to come though and I have little doubts that it shall be a wonderful evening.”

* * *

Netuno smiled as he shook hands with Evaristo. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Prince Evaristo.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you King Netuno. Your Majesty, I should like to introduce you to my son Anastas.” 

Anastas bowed slightly. “Good evening Your Majesty and be welcome in Torres Villa.” 

“I am most welcome I assure you, Prince Anastas! Let me introduce my family quickly. At my side is my wonderful Consort, Prince Alphonse. Then we have my oldest son Prince Casimiro and his sons, Prince Maël and Prince Denzel. My son Ferrão could not be with us tonight but his son Aimery, the Visconde Flores was more than happy to attend in his place. Finally we have my two sons Prince Calixto and Prince Thierry.” 

“It is a pleasure to meet you all,” Anastas greeted smoothly as he quickly shook hands with all the men in this particular entourage. “I look forward to furthering our acquaintances later this evening. Please enjoy yourselves.”

* * *

“Good evening, Albus! Where is your charming wife?” Estavan greeted. 

Dumbledore smiled slightly, “My youngest granddaughter has had some complications with her pregnancy and Sharon felt it necessary to remain close to home in case there were any difficulties. At her request, I am escorting my great-grandchildren Roderick and Emily.” 

Tiziana smiled at the two teenagers. “I am sorry to hear that but I am pleased to meet you both! I hope you all have a wonderful time this evening.” 

“Actually, I was hoping to introduce them to Anastas? They both attend schools oversea.” 

“You are asking the impossible this night, Albus! My poor grandson is in much demand but I will see what I can do, you are his Headmaster after all.” 

“Thank you; I shan’t breathe a word of you aiding me in this endeavor.” Dumbledore commented, eyes twinkling with amusement.

* * *

“Mr. Li, good evening!” Evaristo greeted cheerfully as he accepted the invitation. “That unicorn horn divining rod I bought from you is the best I’ve come across so far.” 

“I will be sure to let my son Naosuke know that his selection for you has been so well received.” Li Jie commented pleased. 

Evaristo grinned, “Do! Now gentlemen, I will introduce you both to my son. Anastas, this is Li Jie and his youngest son, Li Cheng. Their family specializes in luxury magical creature goods and I am a particular patron of theirs.” 

Anastas bowed, “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Mr Li. Cheng has told me so much about your family already.” 

The older wizard smiled approvingly. “I have heard much of you from my son as well. I hope that later we may speak again at depth.” 

“I would like that,” Anastas agreed, mind racing with possibilities. 

Cheng smiled slightly, “Would you honor me with a dance later?” 

Anastas paused in the middle of accepting a tray from one of the guards. Quickly evaluating the guest list, Anastas decided that he could be generous without slighting any of the other potential allies gathered tonight. “If you desire it, you may have the second dance.” 

Jie’s eyes widened slightly at that unexpected honor, his son **must** have made quite the impression to be offered the first dance with a non-family member! He was very pleased to see his son graciously accept, dark eyes glowing with pleasure.

* * *

The Gala had finally begun now that all the guests had arrived and had been granted entrance into the ballroom. Once again, Anastas was surrounded by guests’ eager for introductions or to exchange conversation and somehow win his favor. Unlike the Ball, the crowd around Anastas consisted mainly of suitors and not watchful parents. The presence of the guards, both human and Harpy, kept even the most eager on their best behavior. 

“Handsome boy,” Aodh commented as he plucked a wineglass from a floating tray. “If he’s as clever as everyone says perhaps he’d suit one of my grandsons.” 

Estavan quirked an eyebrow, “Grandsons and not granddaughters?” 

Aodh snorted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t need to look at him to know the lad’s queer. I’m just wondering why he hasn’t mentioned his preferences yet, that’d easily get rid of a third of his would-be suitors.” 

“You think he’s…” Niall trailed off slowly as he observed Anastas more carefully. Appearance and behavior alone was not an indicator of sexual preference, especially among the wealthy, privileged members of the _haute monde_ . Mannerisms and social graces were molded young in Pureblooded Families, so that too could not be counted upon. Ah, but the way the boy observed and interacted with his guests? Hmm, that **was** rather telling. 

Estavan hid his amusement behind his wineglass. “Let’s just keep that little fact to ourselves for the moment and let the suitors come to their own conclusions.”

* * *

“…unknown amount of time, though I have my doubts that it will set him back.” Evaristo informed Dumbledore. 

The older wizard nodded agreeably. “Elder Asikis is quite correct in this matter; Anastas should focus on gaining more control over his Harpy Magics rather than worrying about fine tuning his control of Wizardry. When I return to Hogwarts I will ask the teachers to provide their lesson plans for the next month. That way, he may study at his leisure only what he needs.” 

“That would be much appreciated, you have my thanks Headmaster. If you will excuse me, I had best return to collect Anastas. It is almost time for the dancing to begun.” 

Dumbledore chuckled, “I imagine he will not be lacking for partners.” 

Evaristo shook his head, smiling. “No, I highly doubt that.”

* * *

Anastas stifled the urge to groan as he was paired with his cousin Simon for the first dance. Dancing was the least pleasant aspect of this charade but fortunately, there were fewer guests at this Gala than there had at the Ball. As the orchestra began to play, he let his older cousin lead as they began to waltz. 

“How are you holding up tonight?” Simon questioned with a sympathetic smile. 

“Well enough,” Anastas answered as he paid close attention to maneuvering his wings as they danced. “Ask me again after two hours of dancing and I think you’ll get a different answer.” 

Simon laughed. “And I’m sure it will be very different if I ask after grandfather’s announcement tonight, right?” 

“Undoubtedly,” 

“At least you’ll have your pick and no one’s going to rush you into things,” Simon pointed out, trying to focus on the positive parts of being so eligible. 

“That’s true but the downside is that I’m everyone’s first choice, no matter if they’re suitable for me or not. It’ll be hard to get rid of some of them and as you pointed out, since no one’s going to rush me this will take years and with each new Courting Season there will be new proposals to decline. It’s a never ending cycle of madness,” Anastas muttered, irritably. 

Simon smiled, “At least you have the entire family supporting you! Could you imagine trying to fend off all those suitors if you were still an orphan?” 

Anastas shuddered, “Let’s not contemplate that, okay? How are your prospects this Season looking?” 

“No where near as crazy as yours, thankfully. I’m all but engaged to one of Consort Khayri’s nieces. Odds are that our fathers’ will have the engagement announced by late Fall.” 

“Well congratulations, I guess. Are you happy with it?” 

Simon shrugged, “It could be worse, I suppose. For a while I thought I was going to end up with one of the Duc d’Anjou’s shrewish daughters. At least Jilila is pretty and only a few years younger than me.” 

“How long of an engagement will you be having?” 

“Probably the traditional two years so that she can finish her schooling and I can have my abbreviated tour of the Wizarding World before going on to the Fidelis Academy of Law.” (5)

Anastas grinned, “Who’re you going with?” 

“Alfonso, Fausto and Tyr, didn’t you know? Since everyone’s so worried about security they decided that the three of us should all go together, accompanied by Alfonso’s Deadly Dozen.” (6) 

“Makes sense I suppose, there’s only about a year difference between you all. I wonder who I’ll be going with.” 

Simon frowned in consideration. “Well, Agustin is a year older than you and Ryan’s a year younger and those two are the closest in age to you. Though since you have ‘special circumstances’ they might make you wait until you’re twenty and by then, Cleto and Rainer will be of age.”

Anastas grimaced. “The five of us together? They’d make us take half a Private Guard!” 

“Well it’s only a guess. Honestly, I don’t know if they’d make you wait that long. I suppose it’ll depend on who you end up engaged to as well. That might make all the difference. My parents ended up going on their tour together.”

“That’s a good point,” Anastas agreed thoughtfully as the waltz came to an end and they stepped apart. “I wonder who my father and Uncle Apolinar went with, I ought to ask.” 

Simon patted him on the shoulder, “Ask them later, right now there are a whole lot of other people who’d like some of your attention.” 

“Of course,” Anastas murmured as he glanced around the onlookers, looking for Cheng. The Chinese wizard was not hard to find, dressed as he was in elaborate vermillion robes trimmed with gold silk. Simon escorted him to his next dance partner before melting into the crowd. 

Cheng smiled widely as he held out his hand for Anastas to take. “You honor me with this dance.” 

Anastas smiled slightly, “Such flattery…” 

“It suits neither of us truly but it is a necessary game we play,” Cheng murmured as he led the younger wizard to an open place on the dance floor. 

“Those in a position of power must always be prepared to play games,” Anastas agreed as they waited for a signal to see what dance they would be dancing. 

The orchestra conductor waved his wand causing a red fox to burst from his wandtip. 

“A foxtrot, how fortuitous!” Cheng said with obvious amusement as they took their positions. 

“Tonight at least, I am spared of any dance that requires too much contact or less restraint.” Anastas commented stretching his wings slightly to emphasize his point as they took their stances. “I tried that spell that we spoke of; it was as effective as you said it would be.” 

“I’m happy that you were so pleased with it. I checked the registry at our warehouse and we are scheduled to receive a shipment of Demiguise hair in three weeks. Shall I ask my esteemed brother to select the best for your use?” 

“If you would be so kind, I would be very thankful.” Anastas agreed with a smile. 

“Think nothing of it,” Cheng answered as they began dancing. “You would hardly be the first to request such a thing and grandfather sees no harm in conducting business at these affairs. The flaunting of wealth is not the sole purpose behind these gaudy gatherings, after all.” 

“No, I would guess that is not all.” Anastas replied with amusement. “Dare I wonder what your father thinks of me?” 

Cheng sighed, “He thinks much like any good businessman. A match between us would surely advance the family, diversify the bloodline and extend our already vast connections. Obviously he approves of the idea but it will be my grandfather who will need more convincing. He thinks that the fact that both of my brothers married outside of China has diversified the bloodline enough for one generation.” 

“After this evening, he may not need much convincing,” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’ll find out with everyone else,” Anastas answered smoothly before changing the subject. “I should like to see that style of sword fighting that we spoke of last. I have been trained largely in the common European styles but the Eastern styles have always intrigued me.” 

Cheng smiled, “Perhaps we could arrange a demonstration? There is little harm in it and it has no traditional value as a bargaining chip for courtship so your family may not be so quick to dismiss it.” 

“That is a good point; I should speak to my father about it later. Ah that reminds me! I thank you very much for that lovely gift you gave me for Christmas.” 

“I’m pleased to hear you enjoyed it. You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to convince my brother Naosuke to part with those rare shark teeth…”

* * *

Lucius glared darkly at the Chinese wizard dancing with Anastas. The two of them looked far too comfortable in each other’s company for his liking. This was only the second time they had seen each other after all! Severus exchanged a look of exasperation with Regulus before casually strolling off to search for a decent conversationalist. The younger Black glanced around the crowded room and spotted his older brother dancing with one of Dumbledore’s great-grandchildren. Shaking his head, he too left the blond wizard to fume as he searched for someone to talk to or better yet dance with. 

As the foxtrot came to a close, the Chinese wizard escorted Anastas back to his father who was in company with Dumbledore. They conversed for a few minutes and then Anastas spotted him and quickly excused himself. 

“Hello Lucius, what are you doing here all by yourself? I would have thought that you’d be mingling.” Anastas greeted, ignoring the guards that had followed him. 

Lucius smiled, “I was waiting for a chance to speak with you. I wanted to thank you for the crystal unicorn figurine you gave me for Christmas. It’s very beautiful.” 

“I’m happy you liked it. I bought it from a shop in Sweden when I was in town for some business. I appreciated the watch you gave me; it’s a work of art.” 

“Of course it is, it’s a Jaeger LeCoultre after all!” 

Anastas rolled his eyes. “LeCoultre is a very fine brand, I never said it wasn’t. My Uncle Apolinar is very fond of them.” 

“Do you have a preference?” 

“I like Vacheron Constantin myself. Grandfather and Uncle Pascual are fond of Lizt-Brauner, my father and Granduncle prefer Bulgari and most of my cousins choose Rolex.” 

“Ah, my family is particular to LeCoultre.” 

“Understandable,” Anastas agreed. “Pureblooded Families have a tendency to keep to tradition especially when it comes to heirlooms. For instance no other jeweler but Vargas has served the family and we have a long-standing contract with the Cargenvens for arms and armament.”

Lucius was about to reply when he was interrupted by the arrival of several Azorean Princes. 

“Good evening, Prince Anastas.” Prince Thierry greeted with a smile. 

Anastas nodded politely, “Good evening again, Prince Thierry. Let me introduce you to my friend and schoolmate, Lucius Malfoy. If my memory serves me correctly Lucius, these five gentlemen are Prince Thierry, Prince Maël, Prince Calixto, Prince Denzel and Aimery, the Visconde Flores.” 

Nods and the usual polite inquires were made before attention was once again turned to Anastas, who looked rather amused. 

“You both seemed to be very engrossed in your conversation; may I inquire what you were discussing?” Prince Maël asked curiously. 

Lucius smiled, though his eyes remained cool. “We were exchanging thank-yous for the gifts we gave each other for Christmas and then began discussing how many Pureblooded Families traditionally retain the services of certain shops and suppliers.” 

“That is an…interesting choice in conversation.” Aimery replied, slightly taken aback.

“Well, it is a better choice than the usual exchange of pleasantries that are expected at such a prestigious gathering,” Anastas said with some weariness. “Truly, I get sick of repeating my interests, likes and dislikes and discussing current events.” 

Prince Calixto smiled slowly, “I couldn’t agree more. I hate these affairs.” 

“It has its uses but I prefer to socialize in less crowded venues where there is not such a great need to observe all the formalities.” Anastas confided. 

Lucius nodded, “These gatherings do get tiresome and I imagine that it will be worse for you.” 

“I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t trying. Much of the time I feel rather cast adrift in the ocean and every time I think I’m getting closer to the shoreline, some unexpected wave pushes me farther back. There is a great deal to learn and simply not enough time to learn it all. Considering marriage at this point in time is rather silly in my opinion but this provides and excellent opportunity for business and expanding my connections in the Wizarding World. If there is one thing I have learned since I was adopted and thrust into this world, it is that the connections one holds can be the greatest asset a person may have. Unfortunately, it is an area I am somewhat behind in as I was not reared in the Wizarding World but I am fortunate that I will be allowed many opportunities to amend that.”

“What was it like? Growing up in the Muggle World?” Denzel asked curiously. 

“It was different and much harder. Growing up in the orphanage, I had my basic needs provided for but there was always uncertainty. The days outsiders came were especially tense. It was both humiliating and pathetic how many of the children struggled to be on their best behavior while competing with each other, in the hopes of getting adopted. I was sickened with that aspect of the orphanage and after a time I didn’t bother to make myself available for the adults who came, looking for a child to adopt. You can imagine my reaction when my father arrived, not at all like the other adults who had come and only interested in me. I was suspicious of course, the few orphans who reached my age were rarely ever adopted and then he told me about magic…” Anastas trailed off, a distant look in his eye. 

Lucius stared at his friend, enraptured by his story and a little bit ashamed of himself. He was no better than all these pedigreed popinjays, only interested in Anastas because of his bloodlines, his fortune, his heritage or his rank. How did Anastas put up with such a pretentious gathering of fools? 

“In a way it’s ironic,” Anastas said softly, wings twitching subconsciously with his agitation. “I went from having no security in the world and my future, to literally having the world at my fingertips. There are days where I feel as though I am living in a dream and I am uncertain if I want to wake.” 

For several heartbeats, no one said anything, still mulling over his words. Anastas frowned slightly and excused himself, his guards falling into place around him as he forged through the crowd.

* * *

It was time for the announcement that everyone had been waiting for. The entire room had quieted down to mere whispers as they watched the Prince of Asturias take his place in front of the dais the orchestra had been seated at. Fifteen minutes to midnight and the dawn of a New Year and everyone was breathless with anticipation. Servants appeared levitating trays filled with champagne glasses as they circulated the room. When all his guests had been served, only then did Prince Estavan speak. 

“Tonight we have gathered to celebrate the end of a glorious year and the beginning of a one we hope will be as bright. As you all very well know, I am about to announce the contents of my grandson Anastas Lund-Torres’ inheritance. Due to the vast fortune and assets, I will not be announcing the individual net worth of each account, business, investment or estate. Only some of that information will be released through the media later this morning. What I am prepared to tell you is the number of estates and the estimated net worth my grandson has with Gringotts Bank. As of this morning, Anastas has a total of eight estates, five of which are located in Sweden, one in the United States, one in France and one in Spain. His total estimated net worth with Gringotts Bank is 1.52 billion galleons.” 

Dead silence filled the room as the guests gaped in shock, not even daring to breathe. Like a dam bursting, noise filled the room as people started talking excitedly and the guards had their hands full keeping the crowd in check as they attempted to press forward on any members of the Royal family. It took a good five minutes before order could be restored and Prince Estavan could finish with his announcement. 

“Due to the change in circumstances, we will not accept any ACR proposals unless they include a prospective marriage contract. Proposals will be accepted from January 1st until midnight February 14th and notices accepting or declining the proposals to be delivered on April 1st. I have spoken at length with my son Evaristo and Warlord-Prince Silvio and we have deemed it unwise to accept invitations to social gatherings for the sole purpose of conducting the necessary courtship rituals. All the proper Anterior Courtship Rituals will take place at Torres hosted gatherings solely and we will host one gathering a month beginning in April until Anastas has his official Debut in July. 

“During the month of August we will host two gatherings a week and beginning in September we will host two gatherings a month until the end of the year. There will be twenty total gatherings this year and next year we will host two gatherings a month until the end of May and two gatherings a week from June to August with two gatherings a month from September to December. If we need to continue with Anterior Courtship Rituals for an additional year, it will be three gatherings a month during the school term and three gatherings a week during summer holidays.” 

Estavan calmly looked around the crowded ballroom. “I would remind you again that the Amello Clause is in full effect and should a marriage contract be signed, marriage may take place as early as my grandson’s sixteenth birthday. If a marriage contract is not signed before my grandson’s sixteenth birthday, a traditional four year long engagement will take effect and no marriage will occur earlier than his twentieth birthday. After much consideration, we will accept ACR proposals from those fourteen up to thirty-eight years of age, as of January 1st. As a final note, we will not accept ACR proposals from anyone who is currently married and seeking an additional spouse. I can think of no greater slight than my grandson taking any position but that of the primary spouse.”

Plucking a glass of champagne from a tray, he raised his glass in toast. “To the New Year, may it be one of prosperity and peace!” 

All the guests raised their glasses and happily drank, minds racing with the endless possibilities the future held.

* * *

**The Study  
Golden Oak Hall, Leicester, UK  
Wednesday the 1st of January 1975  
5:48 AM**

Ogden’s Firewhisky seared his throat as he pondered his choices, quill in hand and papers arrayed on his desk. Tancred Peverell— Scholar of Ancient Wizarding Rituals and Rites, known to a few as the Dark Lord Voldemort was at a crossroads. One he had not expected to reach. 

Uncle Cuthbert may have lectured him at length about doing his duty for the Family but this was the first occasion that he seriously contemplated actually doing the honorable thing. To his amusement, his outspoken Uncle had been struck speechless at his announcement. Of course, being the sort of wizard he was the older man had not remained silent for long. In fact he had been stomping, roaring and gesturing wildly for the last two hours, like a man a third his age. Tancred really was quite impressed. 

“What the devil are you thinking Tancred?! Are you insane? It would be one thing to marry some naïve Pureblooded twit still in school but to make a Prince of the Blood your dupe? Have your brains deserted you?!” Cuthbert roared, his wrinkled face flushed darkly. 

Tancred smiled slightly, “No, Uncle, I assure you I am thinking very clearly.” 

Cuthbert narrowed his gray-green eyes. “Then enlighten me!” 

“I have no intentions of making Anastas Lund-Torres my dupe. That, as you were quick to point out, would be suicidal and I quite enjoy living. Marriage would greatly improve my position and possibly avert open warfare as I had expected. To be honest, I had not expected a bloodless approach to present itself to me but I would be a great fool to dismiss it out of hand, correct?” 

“Yes and I did not raise a fool,” Cuthbert agreed reluctantly. “Regardless of the benefits such a marriage would bring, you can’t simply hide your aspirations without risking censure later down the road.” 

Tancred sipped his whisky. “I know and I am prepared to reveal my full intentions if I do submit a proposal. The Torres are vengeful and I have no desire to make that illustrious family my enemy.” 

“It’s risky.” 

“I know but sometimes risk is called for.” 

Cuthbert sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Bloody Hell, you can’t do things by halves can you? Damned Slytherin blood!” 

“It’s fortunate then, is it not, that I have Ravenclaw blood to balance my ambition?” (7)

“You could ruin the Family with your damned ambition and well you know it, Tancred! All these years of striding the line and you would risk it all on some boy! Madness!” 

Tancred sighed, “I have never been impulsive, Uncle. I will be very cautious with the boy and if he proves to be narrow minded, I will withdraw my suit. He would be the ideal solution to many of my problems but I will not coerce him into anything. I dare a great deal but I will not risk my life in such a manner.” 

“Very well, you have my approval but I want to meet the boy at length and if I tell you, you’ll withdraw that suit immediately!” 

“Of course,” Tancred agreed. 

Cuthbert dropped down into the chair in front of his nephew’s desk. “Give me those papers there, you start writing that letter of introduction and I’ll look it over when you finish. May Merlin guide us!”

* * *

* * *

INTERLUDE

* * *

* * *

There was no doubt it was the last of its kind. What had happened to the others would remain a mystery, one that it did not contemplate often. In truth, it had little reason to ponder idle things such as the past and its beginnings. No, it had something much better to focus on, that wonderful, most beloved personage known as its Host. 

It had encountered people from the very first hours after its creation but it had never met anyone quite like the Host. The greatest of Kings down to the lowest of slaves had attempted to harness it, even the odd non-magical human had tried and all had failed. Thousands of years had passed and it had been carried all across the world by those who wanted its powers and those who had protected it from consuming more mortal lives. Time had no meaning, minutes could pass in between the attempts to unlock it or millennia and still no suitable Host had been presented to it. With every unworthy life it consumed, it grew stronger and wiser to the ways of mortals. Gradually, it had gained some awareness of the world and though it was trapped in the form that it had been bound to, it knew that someday a worthy Host would appear and grant it a limited freedom. 

It had grown into an even greater awareness of the world, granting it the ability to sense the thoughts of all life within a certain distance around it when it had come under the ownership of a Mage of great power. This one had been a scholar and knew what danger it presented and wisely had it hidden away to safeguard the lives of those foolish enough to attempt to possess it. A great span of time had passed without any mortals presenting themselves, perhaps a little over two thousand years, and it knew frustration. 

Then came the day that it had long waited for, a mortal had braved the deadly labyrinth and succeeded! Hands drenched in magic and blood had picked it up from the unadorned stone pedestal it had sat upon and then, it knew Joy. This was the one! This would be its Host. A lifetime of waiting had come to an end at last. 

The Host was a magnificent specimen of mortality. Damaged in mind and body but so very stubborn and strong! It took great pleasure in immersing itself in the Host. The mortals it had met before were no comparison to the Host. They lacked the vibrant spirit and undefeatable will that kept the Host alive even after all the betrayals, sorrows and death. It had been honored to give its power and aid to the Host, so honored in fact that it had changed the price for its service. This one was different than all the others that had come before and this one was worthy of keeping his life. 

Many months had passed and the Host had been victorious in battle, so victorious in fact that he had killed enemy and ally alike. The Host had been so distraught by his actions that it took a whole week of soothing before he would take to the field again. Much to its pleasure the more the Host fought, the more distraught and dependent he became to it. As knowledgeable about humans as it was, it knew that such dependency was viewed upon as unhealthy but it could not help but take joy at the fact that the Host **needed** it to such a degree. 

The Creator would likely destroy it, should they cross paths again, but it did not care. What the Host needed the Host would get, even if it broke the guidelines it had been instructed to follow. Luckily those guidelines were more suggestions than actual, binding laws. 

In any event, the Host and it grew closer and once again, it found that its understanding of mortals (specifically humans in this case) had grown. At this time, the Host was close to finishing the task that had been left to him, the destruction of that foul wizard by the name of Voldemort. The sun had bathed the world in light when it came to a rather startling conclusion. It loved the Host in a **very** inappropriate manner, according to the guidelines it no longer followed. But then, it reasoned, the Creator could not have known that it would gain such understanding of mortals. Had it not been created solely to aid the one found worthy to be Host? 

A very cunning Idea had struck it. The likelihood of meeting the Creator again was slim but should it happen, there would be no repercussions surely if the actions it took were at the Host’s request? Confident that the Creator could not refute such a thought, it had turned its attention to the Idea. 

The Host completed his task nearly a year after it began to implement the Idea. Many lives had been lost in the War and like many of the battles before, only the Host had survived. With much horror, it had stopped the Host from committing suicide and best of all, had convinced the Host to give himself into its care. It could not have been more overjoyed. 

It took many, many years to repair the damage done to the Host. Many a time, it cursed itself for allowing the Host to cling to it, for such behavior had spawned a great darkness in the Host’s mind. That darkness was minor compared to the absolute atrophy some of the Host’s memories had caused his mind. Left with little choice, it had erased over half the Host’s memories, modified an eighth of them, created a small portion and bound what could not be erased, but would cause damage, into a place deep within the Host’s mind. The process was painstaking, time consuming and had taken too long to perfect, another fact that it cursed. The Host’s mind was so damaged from some of its errors that even now his mind only appeared to be stable and was always on the brink of shattering again. 

By the time it had finished repairing the Host, the world was no longer suitable for the Host and it had expended even more time and energy into finding a world that was. When the Host woke in the new world, it had been so exhausted from pulling them into a new reality that it had left the Host defenseless. Fortunately, the memories it had rooted into the Host’s mind had served him well and by the time it had recovered enough to communicate, the Host had been deeply immersed in the goals it had left him to pursue. 

The next stage of its plan would take years to put into place but it was patient. How could it be anything else when it knew the reward that awaited it once the plan came into fruition? Now it only needed to wait until the Host made a choice and then, it could begin the transferring process and claim its reward. 

If it could smile, it would grin widely with pure bliss. (1)

* * *

Notes: 

1) This would the giant Plot Twist mentioned in the Author’s note. Before I get bombarded with a billion questions, I will explain briefly. Not all the events that happened in the ‘old world’ occurred as Anastas remembers them. The most **important** thing to note is that the only one that would know what actually happened is the fiend itself. It is obvious the fiend is planning something very twisted and Anastas is quite blind to the whole plot. Where this will go, even I am not yet certain. 

It may think it understands humans but remember what it knows of humans it has ‘learned’ from all the people it has consumed over the years. That’s a lot of impressions to take in and many will be contradicting. Oh and just to let you know, the fiend has no gender (as it doesn’t have a body). It seems male because it is in a Male host and has adopted male mannerisms. Also, it does not have a name and has never needed a name. I refer to it as Not-Friend because it is the best ‘not-friend but not-quite an enemy’ a person could be (un)fortunate enough to have. 

2) Yes, Anastas is filthy rich. It took me ages to figure out what would be appropriate sums. It may seem ludicrous but you have to remember that he comes from an extremely old, very wealthy family. A huge chunk of the Lund monies have just been sitting in Gringotts collecting interest and it’s been decades so it’s collected a lot. The estates too, are worth a huge amount of money and often, have some sort of income produced too.

3) A lot of information yes, I know and I apologize for dumping it all on you in such a manner. In a nutshell, most of the Royal family has additional lesser titles and estates. I used Asturian spellings for some locations.

4) I made the Succession heavily reliant on Patrilineal ties and keeping power within the family (thus the exclusion of the Torres daughters and Pascual). As Anastas is Adopted, he is considered ‘lesser’ than a blood-born Torres and thus, would only inherit if the primary line was completely decimated. The odds of said decimation occurring in this story are nil I can assure you, that’s the absolute **last** thing I want to deal with.

5) The whole ‘tour of the Wizarding World’ is not an idea based on events in DH. All Wizarding Families do this but only the wealthy can afford to make it a world tour. The tour is generally not made alone. Usually siblings, cousins, close friends or betrothed couples go on tour together. This tradition is used mainly so that young adults can experience other cultures and is also used to enrich friendships. It’s common to stay with family friends if they live nearby your destination. It’s an honor to host a child of a friend because it shows how trusted and valued your friendship is to the parent of said child. 

6) All the members of the Asturian Royal Family have a Private Guard force who serves them solely. Generally the Private Guard force is taken from the overall Asturian Military and the Private Guard are usually given to a Royal upon reaching majority at age seventeen. The reference to the ‘Deadly Dozen’ simply refers to Alfonso’s twelve best guards. 

7) Tancred has Slytherin blood via the Gaunt connection (which originates from a male descendant) and Ravenclaw blood via the Peverell connection (which originates from a female descendant). Both connections come from his mother’s side of the family and the Peverell connection is the more recent of the two.

**Next Chapter** \- Anastas gets a beat down, Hogwarts without Anastas, Tancred’s plots, Kidnappers deliberate, ACR proposals for your viewing pleasure and Evaristo gets a bad feeling…

Oh, I’m also curious about what side pairings you might be interested in seeing. A good argument for or against a pairing may sway me. For instance, a certain someone I know is quite interested in seeing Sirius/James. Ah and that thing about Dumbledore? I’ll probably fix it, somehow. When I’ve the time. 

Have re-written the Character Appendix for this story, will post it to the Group when I have time in the next week or two and probably on my IJ. Will send it if anyone is interested as well, just leave your e-mail address. Write your e-mail like so, otherwise FFnet will make it disappear! (i.e. reviewer at yahoo dot com) 

This story is over one year old and has now broken 100 pages. I dream of celebrating with 100 reviews but I have my doubts that will happen. Please, please prove me wrong! 

-SheWolfe7 (11-3-07)


	7. Chapter VI: Necessity

  
Author's notes: Anastas' troubles, ACR related conversations, powerful men brood on their options and realizations about the future.  


* * *

A/N: Here is the next chapter of the story, there’s a lot of details and a lot of glimpses about what some of the characters are up to. Happy reading.

** IMPORTANT NOTE: **

**BEFORE** reading this chapter **READ** the first chapter of the companion story to Good Intentions, now known as: **NO GOOD DEED!** It’s absolutely **VITAL** to understand why certain events that will take place in this chapter have occurred!!!

Text Formatting:   
‘Character thoughts’  
 **Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info**  
 _Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_  
\- _Parseltongue_ -  
:: Telepathy ::

* * *

**Good Intentions  
By: SheWolfe7**

* * *

Chapter VI: Necessity

* * *

**The Training Yard  
Asikis Hall, Rhodope Mountains, Greece  
Saturday the 4th of January 1975  
10:40 AM**

 

Odysseus stared, utterly dumbstruck. “What in the world…?!” 

Elder Asikis merely pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated beyond belief. “I thought you said that he was talented and a quick learner?” 

“He is or rather he was. I’ve never seen him react so sloppily Sarpedon. Has he not been adjusting well?” Odysseus asked, looking away from the shameful display. 

“The first few days went well but recently his performance has dropped dramatically. Now he is like a fledging newly come into his power he has no control whatsoever!” Sarpedon snarled. “My grandson has more control than him at the moment and Meleager is nine!” 

Odysseus frowned, “What are you going to do then? He’s much too powerful to be trained by anyone less than a Squall.” 

“That much I know but my frustration with him is beyond words, I fear that I would do him some harm should his performance remain lackluster. So I will place him under Zayle’s guidance for the time being.” 

“Is that wise? Zayle has yet to choose a life mate.” 

Sarpedon waved his hand in dismissal. “No attachments will form, of that I am certain. The tiercel is too young and Zayle is dallying with Patriarch Karahi’s nephew, who would make a much better life mate in the long run.” 

“I am in no position to gainsay you Elder Asikis, but I will warn you, the tiercel has a terrible ability to do the unexpected. I only pray that the enchantments on the Hall can withstand his Fury.” 

Sarpedon snorted, “It was cast by Archelaus, who was easily the most powerful Squall to be born. If they could withstand his Fury, they can withstand this tiercel.”

Odysseus shivered slightly, and hoped the Elder was right.

* * *

**The Balcony  
Asikis Hall, Rhodope Mountains, Greece  
Wednesday the 8th of January 1975  
2:35 AM**

 

Anastas rubbed his eyes, utterly exhausted. He was so damned tired! Ever since his strange blackout two weeks ago he had not been sleeping well and his condition had only worsened when he arrived at Asikis Hall. There was something about being in the mountains that made him feel as though he had just returned home after a long journey, though he always felt a bit restless too, as if he were waiting for something. It was altogether odd and he would not forget the look his mentor had given him when Anastas had idly mentioned it. 

Of course by now he had gotten used to the fact that he wasn’t the least bit normal. Life as Harry Potter had taught him to expect the unexpected. So the fact that he was an oddity among the Harpies didn’t surprise him in the least. While his Harpy blood did significantly boost his already formidable abilities, it did make him worried because now he would be exposed to a whole new world of politics. 

Often he found his unique situation in the Wizarding World frustrating enough and he was very sick of the hours and hours he spent plotting and slowly manipulating things from the shadows. His Adoption into the Torres Family had been extremely profitable in terms of adding to his network of potential allies as well as giving him a great deal of power and influence. There were some downsides though, namely the whole extravaganza regarding finding a suitable spouse and the attempts to kidnap him. 

The latter situation worried him more than the former, which was understandable. In fact, the report his Granduncle had given him before he left hinted that the four separate kidnapping attempts had been masterminded by two, if not more, different individuals. So far, only one of the groups had been identified and taken care of. It was a very troubling situation and the fact that it was taking so long for his Granduncle and Cousin to gather information was a cause of concern. With his Grandfather’s contacts and the eager aid of all the Families hoping for an alliance, the investigation should have been smooth sailing. 

The kidnapping attempts had only emphasized the fact that while he had plenty of power and influence, he was still very limited in what he could do with it. Revealing his true goals was out of the question and with his position in society; it was not possible for him to do his own investigations. 

There was one possible solution but he was loath to begin the process for fear of putting himself in the way of temptation. Anastas liked to believe that he could learn from his mistakes and asking favors of his inner demon was not conducive to his desire to free himself from its influence.

\- _But you can’t be free of my influence, not now and not ever._ -

Sighing, Anastas leaned against the rail of the balcony outside his room. - _You certainly have been talkative lately._ -

The other snarled with malice. - _It’s not as though I have anything better to do! There are faster ways to master your new abilities as you very well know but you’re just being stubborn. I give you the powers of a lesser god and yet you would condemn me for giving you such a marvelous gift!_ -

Anastas scowled. - _I’m so sorry that I’m boring you. Honestly, if you weren’t such a danger, I’d happily give you away to some other hapless fool. Unfortunately I can’t be sure that a new host can avoid the temptation. I certainly failed._ -

A weary sigh brushed across Anastas’ cheek, causing him to jump in place at the bizarre behavior of the other being. - _Mortals are weak in body, mind, and spirit. You were a better mortal than the thousands I’ve encountered before you. It’s foolish that even now, after you’ve succeeded in your task, you would allow yourself to be ruled by the expectations of those gone to bone and dust. You may tell yourself that you will destroy Voldemort because he is a danger to the safety of the Wizarding populace or that you despise him for the things he has done to you and yours but neither of those is what drives you now. I tire of your self-delusions, host._ -

\- _Oh and if you know me so well, then what drives me?_ \- Anastas demanded feeling caught off guard by how reasonable it was being. It always knew what he was thinking and it was always so enthusiastic about bringing up admissions or thoughts that he often preferred to leave alone. 

\- _It’s very simple. If not for chasing after this Dark Lord, you would have no purpose to exist. All that anger and betrayal you felt when they cast you in Azkaban was not enough to keep you alive. If I had not interfered you would have withered away ages ago! I am the one that gave you another chance to live, to choose your own path and this is what you would do with the second gift I have given you? Your inherent mortal foolishness disgusts me._ -

“What would you propose I do instead? A war is brewing, whether it erupts in the next five years or the next fifty nothing will stop it unless someone takes preventative actions now. I would prefer to be in an advantageous position when that war does finally break.” 

\- _If that is the case then you should welcome my interference. You are aware of what I am capable of; I can do so much for not only you but others now that I am stronger._ \- It crooned temptingly.

“No, I don’t want anything that you can offer me. Your…enhancements are too unnatural. It will be commented upon if I gain any other unique abilities. That and the price to be paid for your aid are greater than I am willing to pay. Even for his death.” Anastas grunted as he was shoved back. 

\- _You irritate me with all your repetitive whining about being tricked into accepting my power and how it led you down a dark path. It’s bullshit and you know it! How did the man who was once invincible on the battlefield turn into this pathetic child who can’t accept the consequences of their actions? You say that you hate me, that you would destroy me but what you really hate and wish to destroy is the weakness you find within yourself!_ -

Before Anastas could think of responding, the presence faded and he was alone with the troubling truths the other had revealed.

* * *

**The Ballroom  
Liatos Villa, Thessaly, Greece  
Friday the 10th of January 1975  
10:40 PM**

 

Evaristo sipped his wine, savoring the crisp fruity flavor. “The opening was impressive; I think it should do quite well. You must be pleased.” 

Hesiod smiled widely, “I am always very pleased by the success of my family, be they my own children or the extended family. Callinus is quite thrilled and I am very happy for him, he has worked hard on the production.” 

“I can only hope my own son does as well in his endeavors as your children and grandchildren. Anastas has so much potential that I am eager to see where he will focus his attention.” 

“I am certain that he will acquit himself marvelously. I admit, I was surprised to see you come to the play alone. Where is your son?” Hesiod questioned curiously. 

“He is currently under the tutelage of Elder Sarpedon Asikis. At the Elder’s suggestion, I thought it best to send Anastas to enhance his control over his Harpy abilities. The…Incident on Christmas Eve has led the Family to be more cautious in regards to his safety and the safety of our guests. Anastas is not a violent person by any means but his temper is a thing to be feared now and it is best to let him gain more control before he takes the center stage at the Soirees this season.” 

Hesiod shook his head with amusement, his dark brown hair swaying gently. “That, I believe is an understatement. I can only imagine your horror at the number of Anterior Courtship Ritual requests you have received since the turn of the year.” 

Evaristo sighed, as the two rejoined the rest of the guests. “It has been quite trying. I had to move back into the Palacio because the Villa was simply being drowned in requests.”

The Ballroom was filled with guests from all over the world, their clothes spanning all hues of the rainbow and all styles. Originally, he had not intended to attend the newest Liatos play being performed in Athens but his father and brother had conspired to get him out of the Palace for a few hours. The play had been entertaining and a relief from the hours he had spent pouring over ACR requests but now he would have to mingle. That might actually be worse than spending all of his waking hours reading through pretentious, dry requests. 

“Beware the sharks,” Hesiod warned teasingly as the tension in the crowded ballroom seemed to spike for a moment, no doubt as everyone noticed that their host and a much esteemed guest had arrived.

Hannah Walker, a petite blonde witch in a cyan dress quickly took her place next to her dark haired husband. “Good evening Evaristo, I hoped you enjoyed the play?”

Evaristo smiled, “It was well done, I thought. I shall be sure to offer my congratulations to Callinus.” 

“Please do,” Hannah agreed. 

In the two minutes it took for them to exchange pleasantries, they were quickly surrounded by other guests, all eager to speak to their hosts and, no doubt, have an excuse to speak to Evaristo. Among the group of newcomers were Anacreon Liatos, Karl Gisler, Mona Scilacci, Ihab Rostom and Akilina Lutrova. Evaristo mentally sighed; incidentally all of them had at least one child they had submitted an ACR request for. 

“Good evening Torres how is your son? I noticed he is not with you.” Karl Gisler greeted dark eyes inquisitive. 

“Anastas is well. I have placed him in the care of Elder Sarpedon Asikis, who has taken the role of his mentor. Hopefully Elder Asikis can help my son gain more control over his abilities.”

Mona smiled, showing her perfect white teeth. “He is young; there is not much that is hard to learn at his age.”

Evaristo nodded agreeably, “That is true, Lady Scilacci.” 

“I believe this is the first time you have attended a gathering since the announcement.” Ihab commented, waiting. 

“I have been much busy dealing with the vast number of ACR requests that have been submitted. They arrive at all hours of the day and so far two of the Receiving Rooms at the Palace have been commandeered to store them until they may be properly read and sorted.”

Hesiod smiled faintly, “A Herculean task, no doubt. Have you been sorting them alone?” 

“No, when they have time, my brother Prince Apolinar and my father Prince Estavan assist. My uncle Warlord-Prince Silvio has taken to assigning unruly guardsmen preliminary sorting duties. I have heard it rumored that he is quickly running short of unruly hands.” Evaristo replied with a chuckle. 

“How many requests have you sorted through so far?” Akilina questioned softly. 

“Several hundred, of which only half or less are acceptable. I’ve received requests from other Royal Houses down to impoverished Pureblooded Families.”

Hannah blinked slowly, “Are there any you favor so far?” 

Evaristo frowned as he pondered her question and a diplomatic answer. “The prospective marriage contracts have been very promising so far but it is far too soon to say that we have narrowed down our choices. I can name a few memorable and favorable contracts that have passed our approval. One of the first was submitted by Li Jie, in favor of his third son Cheng, another two were submitted by Chanan Najafian, in favor of his second son Tolan and his youngest daughter Shirin. We accepted King Netuno Delgado’s contracts in the names of his son Prince Calixto and his grandson Prince Maël and Queen Marie Ephrussi submitted a contract in the name of her second son Prince Phillip.” 

Akilina narrowed her eyes slightly. “You seek a Royal match?” 

“As I said, it is too soon yet to narrow down our selections. There is no guarantee that those who have their ACR request accepted will earn the honor of opening Courtship rituals. Tradition dictates that any suitor seeking entrance into our House pass the Way of Five and those that pass that test must also pass the Lund’s Rune Crafting.”

Anacreon, who had been silent thus far, spoke. “A Rune Crafting? I thought that fell out of practice a century earlier!”

“Jacob Lund re-instated the test, namely to weed out those who were only interested in the Lund fortune. From what I recall, the Rune Crafting was to be among the more difficult Courtship tests.” 

Hesiod smiled with amusement. “I have a feeling that we of the _Haute Monde_ , will be quite entertained this forthcoming season!”

* * *

**Stormhaven Hall, Lake Van, Turkey  
Saturday the 11th of January 1975  
12:00 PM**

 

Ozan Tanju was a man of great power, though few knew his name or face. For centuries he had directed the League of Seers and Prophets as their Overseer. Throughout those years, he had guided his fellow Seers and Prophets during times of war and uncertainty and they had remained united in their common goal. All those who belonged to the League took a vow of pacifism and complete neutrality. No matter what they Saw or Prophesized, they would not actively alter the Future. 

For over five thousand years, the League had never encountered a problem with their beliefs but all that had changed several months ago. Now the League was uncertain. While they could never break their vow of pacifism they were uncertain what action, if any, they should take. 

Evaristo Torres was a skilled Seer but he had never been a member of the League and what he was doing worried them. He was slowly but surely changing the outcome of the Future. Manipulating the events of the present to change the outcome of the Future was dangerous work, one that most Seers and Prophets took no active part in. Torres had altered the future strongly twice already. Firstly by Adopting the wanderer the League had name Vega and therefore, preventing a nearly cataclysmic war that would have broken out in twenty years, give or take. Secondly, he had prevented the complete devastation of Northern Europe when the Vega’s Inheritance had been triggered. (1)

While Ozan did not approve of Torres’ decision to actively manipulate the future, he knew that the Seer’s intervention had prevented many unnecessary deaths. It seemed to the League however, that Evaristo had no intention of interfering unless inaction led to a disaster of some sort, whether that disaster was devastation of the land or pointless deaths. 

Ozan was not a fool by any means, he knew there was some greater plan afoot but he was not certain if the League’s interference would make things any better. Just this morning he had spent two hours immersed in the river of possible futures, hoping for some sign that would help him make a decision in regards of the League’s actions. Unfortunately, the future was unpredictable and filled with turbulence. 

At one extreme lay a devastating war, one that would devour the Wizarding World and leave it a mere shadow of what it now was. The other extreme was a peaceful future, one that was controlled by a select few but the Wizarding World would thrive to even greater heights should this future pass. And between those two extremes was a dense fog that he could not see through, though he could sense that should this future come to pass, there would be no bloodshed only a great deal of chaos. 

They stood now on the edge of a knife, and the actions of a single person would decide what future awaited them. Could the League stand back and wait to see what the Vega would choose? Or should they risk interfering and possibly setting the course of the future to a path that could not be turned away from? 

He had ordered the League to stand down for the time being, they would watch and wait and if things looked disastrous, they would interfere. While he would have been more content had their agents managed to capture the Vega and learn of his intentions that opportunity was now beyond them. The Vega was getting too powerful and he was on his guard. He no longer disabled his attackers; he killed them and did so unflinchingly. Ozan could not risk any more agents but most importantly, even if they did manage to capture the Vega, there was no cell strong enough to keep him imprisoned. Yet.

Now that the League had been given their instructions, he could return to the task at hand. In the shade of a towering wall, Ozan continued his work as he constructed a perfect, inescapable cell.

* * *

**The Receiving Room  
Palacio d’Asturies, Oviedo, Asturias  
Sunday the 12th of January 1975  
2:00 PM**

 

It was a normal Sunday afternoon at the Palacio. Seated in the Receiving Room was the current primary line of the Torres Family, who gathered every other Sunday to have lunch and discuss their lives. Today was the first gathering since the New Year’s Eve Gala. As Evaristo had expected, everyone had been eager to discuss the fallout. To his amusement they had all filed into the Receiving Room after lunch to have their discussion and had almost immediately divided into three groups. The women in the family had settled near the windows, the younger children had grouped themselves closest to the door and the men had settled near the fireplace. 

Once she was settled and the doors to the Receiving Room were firmly closed, Tiziana frowned at her husband. “I believe that I have been patient enough. Will you explain why only Evaristo, Apolinar and a few unfortunate guardsmen are allowed to sort through the Anterior Courtship Ritual requests that have come for Anastas? I have seen the other Receiving Rooms and they are literally flooded. Would it not be more prudent if we offered our services to sort through the requests?”

“Your advice and experience is valuable but there are other concerns that you are not aware of. While we would appreciate the help, I think it best that we keep the current course.” Estavan answered smoothly. 

Ariadne scoffed, “We know that there is much that you have not told us about Anastas. Evaristo has been extremely protective and secretive, which for him, is unheard of. The Torres Family have always stood together, why would you chose this time to divide the family?” 

Evaristo carefully chose his words. “It was at my request that information about Anastas be kept only to those who truly needed to know. As you have already pointed out, I am not a secretive person but Anastas’ secrets are best left unspoken. There may come a time when it is safe to speak of but that time has not yet arrived. I beg your patience in this matter.” 

“Very well, how do the requests look so far?” Isabella asked. 

“So far they are very promising as we had expected. We have accepted over two hundred requests so far.” Apolinar answered. 

“You have completed a thorough check to ensure he has no prior obligations, correct?” Ariadne questioned. 

Evaristo nodded a faint smile on his lips. “I have checked thoroughly, there are no longstanding familial debts that are currently in affect. Technically as Columbe Focalor was disowned the betrothal he broke with the Limoges Family was dissolved, much to their consternation.” 

“It is little wonder Columbe was so eager to elope with Phoebe. What choice is there between a rose and a dandelion?” Cyril mused, wishing he himself had been so fortunate.

Araceli looked pensive. “Have you decided on the individual rituals to be performed?” 

“As is traditional, we will have the usual trials of Knowledge, Creativity and Combat. For Knowledge we will test either: Social Graces, Core Academics or Specializations. Combat will consist of tests of Precision, Endurance or Tactics. We have not yet decided on the tests of Creativity as it is a broader subject. As for the final trial, we have not yet chosen a field.” 

“How will we handle the Courtship rituals this year? I do not doubt that Anastas will draw a large pool of suitors but there we must also remember that Alfonso and Agustin are not yet betrothed.” Tiziana pointed out. 

“And there will be several soirees and dinners to be held in the honor of Simon and his betrothed Lady Jilila.” 

Eloisa chuckled. “Don’t forget that Elivra and I are getting married in June!” 

Estavan sighed. “Yes, there will be many obligations this Season.” 

“That’s an understatement.” Cleto muttered, already imagining all the stuffy soirees and dinners he would be forced to attend. 

“We will manage this year as there will only be a total of twenty soirees. Next year will be more difficult with Alfonso, Fausto, Simon and Tyr gone all spring on their Tour and then the Cuélebre Festival at Midsummer.” Apolinar recounted, causing a few groans from the younger members of the family.

Silvio cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the others. “Before we get too distracted about the future soirees, I would like to speak of several pressing issues that have yet to be solved. The investigation behind the attempted kidnappings is still ongoing and so far little has been brought forward that would be of use. For now, the increase in security is all that we can do to avoid future problems. There is one problem however, that must be addressed as soon as possible.”

Estavan frowned, “What problem is that?” 

“There have been unsavory rumors spread in the Court about Anastas’ intentions. Many think that Anastas may attempt to usurp the throne using his wealth and connections. It is not the first time these rumors have been spoken but since his inheritance and the recent Incident I fear what may arise if action is not taken soon.” 

“What would you suggest we do?”

Silvio withdrew a scroll from his pocket and set it in front of his brother. “From what I have gathered, the root of these rumors centers around Anastas’ place within this family. He is not Trueborn, though even if he was there would still be suspicion. The only choice that remains to us is that he undertake the Way of Five to prove his worth.” 

“But…that test has only ever been taken by prospective brides or grooms who would be joining the family!” 

“That is true but the Way of Five tests the values and skills necessary to successfully lead a life as a member of the Royal Family. If Anastas undertakes the test and succeeds then no one can dispute his position or his intentions.”

Estavan understood immediately. “You think the Court and the populace in general would be less worried if he were formally Bound to the Family and unable to betray it?”

“Yes.”

Evaristo shook his head, “It would never work. I have no doubts that he could complete the test but he would never agree to be Bound to the Family in that way.”

Araceli stood up and walked over to Evaristo. “I had my doubts when you told me the truth that you will not tell the others here but I must know, how certain are you that your son will not turn on us?” 

“There is nothing about my son that remains unknown to me. Anastas is no threat to this family, at least not in the way that you are most concerned about. You will never trust him, I know that due to my Gift, so I ask that you trust in the knowledge that I would never willingly betray our family. If you cannot trust in me…then I have no assurances to give you.” Evaristo replied gray eyes distinctly cool. 

Araceli only nodded once before she left the room. An awkward silence pervaded the room in her absence as the rest of the family mulled over that odd exchange. 

“What do you suggest then if he will not take the Way of Five?” Silvio asked at last breaking the silence. 

“There is an old rite of passage that the lesser Princes undertook to earn the right to serve as one of the Warlord’s Commanders. It is a rite that Anastas will not object to undertaking and he would have to swear a vow to serve the Warlord and the Sovereign Prince absolutely during times of War. That should negate any worries of the courtiers and the populace while allowing him the freedom that he seeks.” 

“What preparations will need to be made?” 

Evaristo chuckled, “I would think that you would already know. We are Asturian and we have only ever had a single test of strength and courage.” 

Alfonso gaped, “You aren’t serious!” 

“I have no need to lie.” 

Cleto grinned suddenly, “If he kills the Cuélebre…does that mean we don’t have to have that dumb festival next year?” (2, 3)

“If he succeeds then we won’t have to have a festival again until Apolinar takes the throne.” 

“I would agree to this rite then!” Apolinar exclaimed, shooting an apologetic glance at his father. 

Estavan dismissed the look with a wave, “I have no objections to this rite of passage, considering how much money we will save from hosting the festival every three years. It should be interesting what treasures the Cuélebre has been hoarding all these years.”

“No one has slain the Cuélebre since Gregorio Tavares was elevated to Marqués of Siero in 1508 and there are always seven fools eager to make the attempt every festival. The hoard this Cuélebre has should be even more impressive than the Cuélebre before it.” Cyril pointed out. 

“I will make the arrangements then,” Silvio agreed.

* * *

**The Training Hall  
Rose Arbor Palace, Paraíso Island, Azores  
Monday the 13th of January 1975  
11:00 AM**

 

Calixto greedily drank the water that Thierry held out to him and spared a moment’s thought to forge an ‘emergency’ at one of his estates to escape Wednesday’s lesson. 

Since their father had submitted ACR proposals for all his eligible offspring, Calixto and the other eligibles were now required to attend thrice weekly lessons to prepare for the Anterior Courtship displays. Today’s lesson had been focused on Combat.

Thierry and Denzel had gotten off the lightest, only having to practice spells and weapons for accuracy and speed off to one side of the large Training Hall. The King and Maël, along with a small portion of the Royal Army, were directing mock battles outside of the city while Aimery and he dueled the best Royal Guardsman in residence. 

It was all exhausting, inescapable work and would continue until they received letters rejecting or accepting their proposals. Calixto prayed to any listening deity that his proposal was rejected because if he was accepted then things were only going to get that much more complicated. 

Today’s lesson, while exhausting, was not nearly as bad as the lessons focused on Knowledge or, Merlin help him, Creativity. Though if he were completely honest, they **all** suffered during the Creativity lessons and Maël and Denzel had it the worst during Knowledge lessons. Why anyone would choose Social Graces over Core Academics, he wasn’t entirely sure and Thierry had it easiest having chosen Specialization and being an accomplished Magical Architect to boot. 

“This is not worth it,” Calixto groaned as he dropped down next to Thierry. “I don’t care if the Lund-Torres Heir is worth 1.52 billion Galleons!” 

Aimery shook his head. “He’s likeable enough but the sheer number of suitors and the amount of rituals that need to be performed are too much work.” 

“Father will drive us all away by the time March appears. I’m already so behind in my work due to these ridiculous lessons!” Thierry grumbled, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. 

Denzel massaged a cramp from his left arm. “Damn it, I don’t want to do this any longer! Between the muscle aches and the headaches I get memorizing information, I’ll collapse by the end of the month.” 

“Not to mention those horrible Creativity lessons!” Aimery shuddered. “I don’t know what’s worse, reciting poetry or having to write it!” 

“At least you aren’t being forced to memorize and sing a twenty verse ballad.” Thierry said sourly. 

Calixto sighed, “Much as I loved learning to carve wood from Gaspar, I never thought I would have to waste my time and effort learning to carve the Torres’ Osprey or the Lund’s Stags.”

“I’m so sick of learning love ballads to play on my lute.” Denzel agreed. “Mind you, I’d rather have two Creativity lessons over the Knowledge lessons. I don’t know who is worse, grandfather or father! If I never have to look at another family tapestry I will consider myself lucky! I thought our family was confusing? No, the Focalor tapestry puts our family tapestry to shame!”

The four fell silent as they drank their water and wished themselves anywhere but where they currently were. March could not come soon enough.

* * *

**The Lounge  
Basurto Hall, Fortaleza, Brazil  
Friday the 17th of January 1975  
10:48 PM**

 

Luiz calmly watched his men enter the dimly lit room, gauging their moods. Since the failed extraction orchestrated by his ex-subordinate Diego, he had noticed an increase in tension among the rest of his subordinates. Few of them had been present when he had first taken the reins as leader of this organization and though there were many interesting stories about him, it was quite another thing to see actual proof. 

Less than a week after being placed in the black book, Diego had been picked up in the slums of St. Petersburg and brought back to Brazil to face his punishment. Failure was paid for in blood and in Diego’s case, exposing their organization as he had in front of the eyes of the crème de la crème of the Wizarding World was inexcusable. Luiz had made Diego’s execution very public to the members of his organization and released some of his stress at the same time. 

As the last of his subordinates took their seat at the U-shaped table, Luiz snapped his fingers. Silver, gem studded goblets appeared in front of each seated member and though there was no visible sign of tension from his subordinates Luiz knew that they were nervous. This particular game of chance was only ever used on new members or if he was supremely displeased with someone. For him to choose to force all of the members to undergo this nerve racking trial was a true sign of his irritation at the inadequacy of his men. 

To his right were Oxyuranus (Taipan), Aipysurus (Green Snake), Pelamis (Sea Snake) and Bungarus (Krait). On his left were Notechis (Tiger Snake), Echis (Viper), Crotalus (Rattlesnake) and Naja (Cobra). These eight served him directly and only he knew their true identities. To the rest of the organization they were only distinguishable by the silver snake circlets they wore as everyone in the organization went covered from head to toe with only their eyes and mouth uncovered. One of these eight would one day ascend to the position he now held but like all those who had come before him, he would not yield his position until he breathed his last. (4)

Luiz smiled coolly in greeting. “If you would Naja, please make your selection.” 

An Ebony wand flicked a dark crimson ruby twice and a dark golden liquid filled the goblet. Blue eyes turned in his direction and Luiz gestured for Naja to continue. With no hesitation, the goblet was raised and quickly drained of its contents. As was proper, Naja held the goblet upside down to show that it was empty. Once Naja had set their goblet down, Crotalus made their selection choosing the emerald which resulted in a thick, clear liquid. 

Less than ten minutes later, the eight had made their selections and waited silently to see what would happen now. Pelamis and Echis, who selected sapphire, had to drink a neon green liquid while Oxyuranus chose diamond and drank a runny orange liquid. Notechis also chose emerald and Aipysurus and Bungarus selected ruby like Naja. 

Ten minutes passed before Luiz spoke, now assured that all the liquids had begun to affect their drinker. 

“Oxyuranus…you chose wisely and are not under the effect of any potion or poison. Naja, Bungarus and Aipysurus are not so fortunate as you have just imbibed over steeped Felix Felicius and will be cursed with bad luck for the next twelve hours.” 

While the four absorbed this information with varying degrees of relief and tension, Luiz observed the remaining four. 

“I will dismiss Pelamis and Echis from our gathering this evening as they have just drunk diluted Basilisk venom. Should either of you survive, please present yourself to me at this time tomorrow night.”

The two quickly rose from their chairs and walked unsteadily out of the room, dread rising with each step. Notechis and Crotalus were obviously nervous as they both shifted in their chairs. 

Luiz smiled at them, dark brown eyes alight with amusement. “As for our last two you have nothing to fear…so long as you aren’t harboring any dark secrets.” 

Resigned, but assured that they at least were not staring at Death, the two simply waited. 

“My dear Notechis why do you think I want to secure the Lund-Torres heir?” 

“Likely you desire to use his formidable powers to intimidate or crush your enemies. How you intend to do so I am not certain.” 

“Crotalus do you think we can succeed?” 

“No, and I think it foolish to even try. Diego’s extraction team met a most public and gruesome end. To challenge a Squall is suicide and may rouse the fury of other Harpies.” 

Luiz shook his head. “It is that sort of thinking that will prevent you from ever rising to become Dux. Are you loyal to me?” 

Crotalus struggled for a moment. “I have served you faithfully for nine years but I now doubt your leadership skills.” 

“Hmm I see, and you Notechis? Are you loyal?” 

“I am skeptical that we will succeed but you have not led us astray yet.” 

“Which among you eight would you say is the most valuable and which the least?” Luiz asked the two. 

“Oxyuranus is the most useful as he is both cunning and loyal to you while Echis has no thought of their own and often makes brash decisions.” 

Notechis nodded. “I agree that Oxyuranus is the most valuable to you but I personally think that Aipysurus is the least useful.” 

Luiz snapped his fingers again and watched as the two drank the antidote. While it may have been interesting to learn more about what they thought of various matters, it would have violated the rules of this particular game. 

“Now that my entertainment is finished, let us begin our meeting in earnest. How goes our plan to capture the Lund-Torres heir?” 

“My contacts have told me that the boy is currently in training with Elder Asikis and cannot be reached at that location. Security has also tripled in Asturias itself and I have heard rumors that Prince Evaristo is urging his father to forsake tradition and allow his son to be granted a Private Guard force before his formal acknowledgement upon reaching his majority. There are few windows of opportunity in which a successful ambush will have a positive result.” Oxyuranus reported. 

Naja spoke next. “I have been in contact with several of our agents in Scotland. They report that the defenses around the school have increased tenfold and the village itself is now boasting several full time Auror patrols. One of the agents is looking into using the Imperius to capture and then impersonate one of the train staff.” 

“With the increase in security it will not be safe for our agents to re-enter Asturias in the foreseeable future. As far as I am aware, the investigation that Warlord Silvio has headed has come up with few facts. There have been at least four separate attempts to kidnap the Lund-Torres heir and they suspect more than one person behind these attempts. From what I have learned scouring the Underbelly, the first attempted kidnappers were part of a freelance mercenary company looking to make easy money. It is suspected that one of the later attempts was actually a disguised assassination attempt though I have not found signs of a formal bounty placed on the Lund-Torres heir.” 

Luiz frowned, “The latter is troubling news but not entirely unexpected. Hopefully the Asturians are more vigilant now. It would be a great shame to lose such a powerful chess piece.”

Crotalus began his report at Luiz’s impatient gesture, “Neither father nor son were seen at any gatherings other than the Torres hosted affair on New Year’s Eve. The reasons are obvious to all and sundry and came directly from Prince Evaristo’s mouth as I overheard. A week ago the Seer was seen in attendance at the opening of Callinus Liatos’ new play in Athens. He also attended the celebration held afterward and spoke at length about the ACR proposals and which Families were currently in favor. As expected those candidates are all among the _Haute Monde_ , though they range in age and status.” 

“You have collected far more information than I had thought possible since our last gathering two weeks ago. For the time being, I would like you all to continue your investigations. We will meet again in one week. Crotalus, I want you to shift your attention to Prince Estavan and Warlord Silvio. I want to know what they are planning to do once the Season opens in April.” Luiz ordered before dismissing them.

* * *

**The Dining Room  
Golden Oak Hall, Leicester, UK  
Saturday the 18th of January 1975  
7:10 PM**

 

As soon as the first course was served, Cuthbert looked at his Godson. “What do you make of the young Princeling?” 

“You are referring to the Lund-Torres heir?” 

“What have I told you about wasting time with pointless questions? Of course I’m talking about the Lund-Torres boy!” 

Abraxas smiled slightly, “The media has accurately portrayed his public persona well and even in close company he remains unreadable. In my honest evaluation he is a consummate actor whose true motivations and ambitions are unknown. There is no doubt in my mind that he will become a force to reckon with in the future.” 

Cuthbert frowned, “I shall have to meet him myself to gauge him then. What do you think of him Cassius?” 

“I agree with father’s evaluation completely and would add that whatever his intentions are, they are grand. He has made every effort to expand his connections and though he spends a significant portion of his time with those of the _Haute Monde_ , he rules no one out so long as they have some as of yet unidentified talent or skill. A perfect example for this is his close friendship with Severus Snape and Lucius. Snape is a Half-blood and his only exemplary skill is in Potions while Lucius’ only claims are the social and political connections we have as a Family. Neither is terribly impressive considering the other friendships that Lund-Torres could have cultivated. Within Slytherin alone are scions of at least half a dozen _Haute Monde_ Families and the school as a whole has over twenty with a significant number at least two years within age of the boy.” 

“Humph, I see. Perhaps your ambitions are not nearly as peculiar as I had first thought Tancred.” 

Abraxas glanced at the only man that had yet to speak. “You have submitted an Anterior Courtship Ritual request as well?” 

“It was a chance that I could not pass up.” Tancred answered plainly and then elaborated, knowing what the other was likely to ask next. “For the Knowledge task I have applied to use my Specialization in Ancient Rituals and for Combat I have selected Endurance.” 

“You will be a formidable opponent,” Cassius commented, knowing that Lucius would have to put all his effort into his own training if he hoped to compete well. 

Tancred inclined his head. “Yes though I will not be the only one. I have attended quite a few dinners in recent weeks and learned that there will be several difficult opponents. Li Cheng is said to be a master of the traditional Asian Martial Arts while Ryuzaki Kisuke is rumored to be just as skilled in the less widely approved areas of that field. Then there are the great duelers who have submitted: Vittore Cargenven who holds the European Title, Melanie Barnes who holds the North American Title and Muileki Kubatsi who holds the African Title. While the Combat trial will be nightmarishly difficult, the Specialization field is no less perilous. Azorean Prince Thierry is the most highly credited Magical Architect in centuries and Tolan Najafian is the only known wizard in modern times to safely deconstruct the curses on the ancient Ziggurats.” 

“A Cargenven is competing? That will skew the Endurance trials significantly. Aodh must approve of the boy if he convinced Vittore to submit a request.” Cuthbert mused. “I heard from Beatrix Perry that Prince Valdemar Wifstrand, Hassan Sindhom, Yanagi Gesshin, Pallas Kyris and Edward Miller will all be competing in the Combat Tactics trial. I pity anyone who will face them.” 

Abraxas winced visibly at the news. If all were accepted Lucius’ odds of passing the Combat portion of the trials was slim to none. Each of the five members were widely known for their skill in Wizarding Chess and other strategic games. It was said that they often met once a year to test their skills in a trial of one of their choosing. That one of them should choose this year’s testing ground to be the Lund-Torres Courtship was a daunting prospect. 

“There are a vast number of heirs to large financially dominate Families that will be competing. The great Salem Heiress Selena Whitley has entered the Knowledge trials with Social Graces and the Combat with Precision. Sylvester Lafayette has selected the Knowledge trial under his family’s Wand Creation Specialization and has selected Precision for the Combat trials. There are a number of Liatos and Irungu competing as well so the Creativity trials will be most difficult as they are all great lovers of the arts.” Cassius added. 

“I heard from Silas Melbourne that quite a few Royal and Noble Families also submitted requests. The Azores’ Delgado brood, Russia’s Govorov Imperial Family and the Noble Korolev and Volsky Families and Japan’s great Four– Asukai, Ichijo, Nomiya and Daigo. Then there are the Sultans of Antioch, Babylon, Nineveh, Akkad, Karatepe and Nippur.”

Tancred sighed, already feeling a headache developing. “There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Lund-Torres Courtship will easily be the most difficult this Season. Likely the Torres Family will use the most difficult challenges available to them to cut down the number of suitors. I have heard rumor that they will supplement the traditional Torres’ Way of Five with the Lund’s Rune Crafting, which will easily overcome at least half of the suitors that pass.” 

Abraxas stared, silver eyes wide. “Where did you hear that from?” 

“I happened to overhear Anacreon Liatos speaking with his sons Sophus and Tycho. Apparently those words came directly from Prince Evaristo himself.” 

The two Malfoys exchanged dismayed looks which caused Cuthbert to laugh at length. All eyes turned to the usually surly old wizard. 

“Hahaha! If the boy is anything like his sire, you will need all the help you can get nephew! Now I really must meet this boy and test his mettle myself!” Cuthbert chortled with glee. 

Tancred and Abraxas exchanged looks of long suffering. Things almost always went bad when Cuthbert found something funny.

* * *

**The Training Yard  
Asikis Hall, Rhodope Mountains, Greece  
Sunday the 19th of January 1975  
8:49 AM**

 

Anastas wiped his face with a small hand towel trying to keep his anger leashed as Zayle Asikis, his normally cheerful trainer, started shouting at him for his poor performance that morning. Having gotten barely any sleep last night and then waking due to having flashbacks of the past, Anastas was already in a very bad mood. It had been like this ever since he set foot in the mountains and he wasn’t sure what to think of it. 

He was lucky if he could grab an hour or two of undisturbed rest a night before being woken up from some strange dream. It was unusual for him to dream of the past as much as he had been recently but the strange thing was that he could have sworn that things had changed from what he remembered. Of course, it might be meddling with his memories but it had no reason to do that and if that was it’s intention, it would have just altered his memories to make him more subservient to its will. 

That he had managed this many days with such poor sleep was a testament to his own hardiness and determination. Elder Asikis had washed his hands of him barely a week into his stay and now it appeared that Zayle had reached the end of his tolerance as well. Neither were as frustrated as he himself though and it was taking everything Anastas had not to lose control of himself.

The mind numbing drills that Odysseus and Asikis Harpies had taught him had become a struggle recently and the constant droning of his therapontes was slowly driving him over the edge. His control was almost nonexistent and with every day he could feel it erode just a little more. Soon, all it would take would be one minor loss in control and who knew what would happen. 

Correction, he **did** know what would happen. The Diablo would return again in all its mindless, destructive glory. And wouldn’t that draw all sorts of curious attention that he couldn’t afford? Not to mention it would be like spilling blood in shark infested waters to lose control here in the heart of the Asikis territory. 

Every way he looked at it there was only one option left and as much as he loathed acknowledging the option at all, it would serve him beyond words. His sanity was already slowly degenerating and according to it, there was never going to be a way to escape it anyway so he might as well live it up. 

It was times like these that he hated his survival instinct. Had he been a stronger person perhaps he would have just embraced his death and let that be the end of it. Assuming, of course, that there was an end available to him. For all he knew, the modifications had made him more than mortal. It had hinted something similar to that before after all. 

“…paying attention to anything I’m saying?!” Zayle shouted, drawing Anastas’ attention. 

Anastas bowed perfectly. “I apologize, I have not been sleeping well and it has impaired my actions this morning.”

Zayle glared at him. “Perhaps you should see a Healer if you are having some difficulties! We will meet again on Wednesday morning at the usual time.” 

“Of course, thank you.” Anastas said before he left the Training Yard. 

He was really beginning to hate being here. Few of the Harpies even acknowledged his presence and their constant disdainful looks was grating on his nerves. That he looked weak and incompetent in front of them galled him to no ends and he had to resist the urge to pound some of the sneering faces that he had glimpsed in the last week. If there was any justice in this choice that wasn’t really a bloody choice, it was the fact that once he accepted its help, he would have full mastery over his Harpy abilities with little to no trouble or effort on his part. 

Still, he hated the fact that it knew him better than he knew himself. It had been silent after their argument earlier in the month, knowing that the words it had spoken had twisted and churned in his mind, giving him no respite. The truth in its words had flayed him and unearthed the root of his insecurities and mocked his tentative goals. 

It was right of course, a fact that annoyed him to no ends. 

Running away from his lingering demons and burying the past had done nothing but make him weak. The years in prison had made him crave destruction and revenge but was there really any point to it here in this world? It was clear that he needed to take a step back and review his options. This was an entirely new world, filled with unending possibilities. Nothing was yet set in stone and it was time to really face up to the things he had done and seen. He would face the demons in his past and come out the stronger for it. 

Anastas needed its help and in the end having its aid could only improve his situation. After all, he was already damned what more harm could their association do to him? He would worry about the future after he straightened out his life and his new identity. 

Now came the hardest part, he would have to place himself in the tender mercies of the one being that could always see through him, mask or no mask. It was the only option he had but he could not help but feel as though he were either narrowly avoiding a great disaster or walking closer to it.

* * *

**The Solar  
Cardozo Villa, Portugal  
Sunday the 19th of January 1975  
11:55 PM**

 

Araceli quietly sipped her tea as she sat near the large windows overlooking the grounds of her residence. It was the first time in several years that she had come to stay at her childhood home and likely it would not be her last. This Solar had been her mother’s creation, the flowers that perfumed the air cultivated by her hand and the bubbling fountain created by her designs. The room had always been her sanctuary from the world and her duties. 

Things had not been the same since last weekend’s family gathering. There was a tension present that had never existed before and a strange awkwardness when conversation was initiated. Evaristo had gone out of his way to avoid her and likewise, she too had avoided him. The courtiers had noticed the odd behavior and had speculated at length where they thought it safe, but all those speculations had come to an end Thursday evening when Estavan had made his announcement about the rite of passage that Anastas would undergo.

All the preposterous speculations that had fluttered around the Court before the announcement paled in comparison to the outlandish and nearly treasonous speculations that occurred in its wake. They ranged from the Torres’ needing a large influx of money to cover either a hidden project or a debt, to whispers of eliminating a future threat by the means of the ancient Cuélebre slaying tradition. Ironically enough all previous rumors mentioning the possibility of Anastas usurping the throne had conveniently been forgotten.

The sheer fickleness of people never ceased to annoy and frustrate her. 

Many had correctly guessed that the rift in the family had occurred when the idea of a rite of passage had been first discussed and many thought that she had not been in favor of it. No one but those in attendance knew the truth about the rift and her decision to leave the Court, which had outright shocked the courtiers and sent others into deep contemplation. Whatever had caused the rift had been great indeed to send a member of the Royal Family into what could be construed as exile. 

In truth Evaristo’s words had shaken her badly. They had always known about his Gift and how he used it for the sake of the Family but until that gathering, none of them had ever seen it used on one of their own. His words had erased the fears that had plagued her but she felt no more at ease now then she did months ago. Evaristo had claimed that Anastas posed no threat to the Family and had even gone so far as to say that he fully supported and condoned whatever Anastas intended. 

It had been that…endorsement, more than the fears and worries that had plagued her, which had caused her to leave Asturias. 

Araceli set her teacup down and closed her eyes, wishing she could forget that day. Alas she, unlike her great-grandson Guiomar, could not be allowed the luxury of a Memory Charm.

* * *

FLASHBACK

* * *

The drizzle and chill wind had driven all the Muggles indoors and kept them there which made it a perfect day for a properly attired wizard or witch, to take a leisurely walk around Oviedo without drawing too much undue attention. Araceli had been on her way back to the Palacio after an afternoon spent with a group of old friends. Instead of Flooing home, she had decided to stretch her legs with a short walk and instead had left the restaurant on foot. As they had decided to dine at a Muggle restaurant, she had only brought with her three of her best guardsmen. 

As they turned a corner approaching the main street that would lead them back to the Wizarding portion of Oviedo, they came across a very tense situation. On the opposite side of the street was a pair of strangely dressed wizards, holding Guiomar in front of them at wand point with four very dead Royal Guardsmen sprawled out along the sidewalk. Several feet in front of them stood Anastas, his gray eyes keenly watchful as they shifted between the two attackers and Guiomar. Her startled gasp had drawn the attention of the two attacking wizards and for several moments furtive looks were exchanged between the three separate groups. 

Tension mounted until it reached a breaking point and then Anastas burst into action. 

A sudden, sharp gust of wind and heavy rain blinded the two attackers. The one holding Guiomar tightened his grip and stepped back while the other launched himself at Anastas, who darted to the side keeping Guiomar’s attacker between them. Another gust of wind slammed into the attackers, this time swirling around them and tearing their wands free of their grasp. Anastas closed in on them striking out with his feet and fists until he had gotten Guiomar free. Casting the younger boy behind him and to the ground, Anastas freed a pair of knives from his robe and quickly finished the two off. 

It was ugly. One had his throat cut open, spraying blood all over Anastas and the other was neatly hamstrung and then stabbed several times. All of this happened in less than two minutes, with an ease that spoke of experience and a precision that was simply chilling. The rain which had intensified into an outright downpour washed the blood on the sidewalk down into a nearby drain. 

One of her guards crossed the street and exchanged a few words with Anastas. After a few terse words that she could not catch, the guard picked a shocked Guiomar off the sidewalk and returned to her side. 

“We should take your emergency Portkey back to the Palacio. He will stay with the bodies until the Warlord sends someone to collect them.” 

Araceli looked over Guiomar and then glanced back at Anastas. “They are unharmed?” 

“Prince Guiomar has some burns but is otherwise healthy. Prince Anastas did not appear to be hurt but with this rain and the…condition of his clothing I cannot say.” 

“Let us go then, the sooner we alert Silvio the sooner both can be examined.” 

As they clustered together, grabbing hold of a thin rope, Araceli glanced back at Anastas and saw him watching them. Her breath froze at the expression on his face.

* * *

END FLASHBACK

* * *

After Guiomar and Anastas had been treated for minor burns and a few scrapes and bruises, it was decided that Guiomar should have his Memory altered slightly. He was now under the impression that another group had attempted to kidnap both of them and Anastas had saved them both. Oddly enough, he never once asked what had happened to the would-be ‘kidnappers’. 

That Anastas had killed them did not disturb her, it was self-defense after all, but the look in his eyes and way he had killed them simply caused her skin to crawl. Araceli was aware of his intentions and no matter how noble they may be, she could not justify the lengths he would go to in order to achieve them. Those wizards were not the first he had killed and she knew without a doubt that they would not be the last. Ruthlessness was sometimes called for but she could not condone nor support such cold blooded murder and manipulation. 

Certain in Evaristo’s words, Araceli had returned to Portugal, secure in the knowledge that whatever he intended, Anastas would not destroy her family. From what she had seen, he was more likely to destroy that nameless enemy of his and then himself. That, at least, was what she hoped and prayed for.

* * *

**Anastas’ Bedroom  
Asikis Hall, Rhodope Mountains, Greece  
Monday the 20th of January 1975  
1:04 AM**

 

The room was completely secure by Anastas’ estimation which, after nearly two hours, was a relief. In a way he had less to fear being revealed here than if he were in a Wizarding area but still, there were some things (namely his questionable guest) that he never wanted anyone to know about. Having spent the day considering his next move, Anastas had decided that if he intended to center himself in this world, there were two loose ends that would need to be taken care of first. Both tasks he would have to trust to the other and that in itself was a frightening idea, albeit a necessary one. 

With a final check of the room Anastas stepped in front of the ornate mirror and removed the sheet he had placed over it and looked at his reflection. Almost instantly, that familiar cloaked figure appeared directly behind his left shoulder. 

\- _At last you have decided to confront me outright! It pleases me to see you regain that authoritative behavior that attracted me to you. What would you like to tell me?_ \- It prompted, its hands idly caressing his shoulders. 

“I have considered your words and have found that most of it holds truth. Perhaps the years of confinement have caused me to act rashly. Regardless, it is clear to me that I need to gather more information about the conditions in this world and what I can do with my life before making any other decisions. There is no one in this world that knows me as you do, much as I despise admitting it and so I would like your help in these endeavors.” Anastas explained. 

It practically purred with delight. - _I knew that you would see reason eventually! Of course I would be happy to help you…but there is always a price to be paid._ -

Anastas snorted, “I’m well aware and what I propose may satisfy you. Your talents as you have said, are best applied in manifesting abilities that would otherwise remain dormant. Due to the nature of our close association, you have essentially made me into an entirely new person with abilities that should not have ever occurred naturally. If you are willing, I need you to assemble for me a group of individuals enhanced by you who can move and act freely where I cannot. When that group is assembled, I need you to form a temporary bond with one of them and use them as a whole to collect information on this world and its people and anything else I may require later on. During this time, I will focus my attention on moving forward and letting the past remain in the world we left behind. Only after I evaluate the information you collect will I make a decision about what I wish to do in this world.” 

\- _What an interesting turn of events, though I admit I am quite pleased with your decision. I am willing to do as you ask, though I wish a favor of you in return, one that I may collect at my choosing at a later date._ -

“Do you truly need this favor? You have said often enough that we are so closely tied that there will never be any escaping you. I may not like it but I’ve decided to accept the inevitable. Patience has always been your virtue, do you disclaim it now?” 

It chuckled as it wrapped its arms around his neck and leaned its head upon his shoulder. - _Oh I can wait…especially now that you’ve made the waiting all that much sweeter._ -

Anastas resisted the urge to shake off the cool, non-corporeal touch. “Good. First I want you to give me mastery of my Harpy abilities so that I can leave the Asikis without causing any further worries. I’ve decided that I won’t return to Hogwarts this year, there are too many things that I must work through first before I go back. After I return to Asturias, there is one task that you must complete before I can safely retreat to await the information you will gather for me. There is an item that I need retrieved…”

* * *

**The Fourth Year Boys Slytherin Dormitory  
Hogwarts, Scotland  
Tuesday the 21st of January 1975  
10:20 PM**

 

“The Focalor Family is Matrilineal and has been Pureblooded for over sixteen centuries. Their main residence is the Focalor Aerie located somewhere in the Alsace region of Eastern France. Alauda Focalor was born in 1876 and became Matriarch of the Family in 1908. On June 16th 1894 she married Vespasien Bigeot whom she had three children with, Linnet, Bateleur, and Gavia.” Lucius recited, staring at the ceiling. 

Severus, looking disgruntled, prompted him. “The current familial alliances?” 

Lucius frowned. “By infusing their bloodlines with Veela and Harpies periodically they have managed to diversify their bloodline, which often results in the witches of the Family being more powerful than their wizard counterparts. In forming familial alliances, this gives the Focalors an advantage as many of the Pureblood Families that belong to the _Haute Monde_ are often stronger patrilineally. Currently the Focalors have strong alliances with several European Families, as well as some North American Families. Incidentally I can claim a minor relation to Harpagus Focalor, who is uncle to the Matriarch, as his grandson Pandion married a distant cousin of mine Circe Malfoy.” 

“The primary branch succession?” 

“First in line is Alauda’s eldest daughter Linnet Focalor, second in line is Linnet’s daughter Rallina, third in line is Rallina’s daughter Cinnyris and fourth in line is Cinnyris’ daughter Ducula.” 

Severus cast away the scroll in his hand with a grumble of relief. “Now we are finally finished for the evening!” 

Lucius stretched lazily. “I wish I was as good at one subject as you, and then I wouldn’t have to study all these endless scrolls.” 

“You are an idiot plain and simple. While it would be impressive to score well in the Social Graces trial, it would have been less painful if you had chosen Core Academics instead. The only ones who can stand any chance in Social Graces are those who are obsessed with gossip, genealogy and decorum. Truly the lengths you are willing to go to prove yourself is admirable but you will drive yourself to the end of your endurance at this rate.” 

“I must make a good showing of my talents.” 

Severus rolled his eyes. “After the last letter you received you will have to work a thousand times harder if you even hope to compete well.” 

“Anastas is worth it.” 

“So says the lovesick fool.” 

Lucius glared, “I’m no calf-eyed Hufflepuff Severus.” 

“It’s only a matter of time.” 

Wilkes and Arygris came into the room, carrying their Transfiguration books. 

“…asking Naomi to the next Hogsmeade visit.” 

“Her? You do know her older sister is the one that founded that school in New Zealand?” 

“I know, it’s not like I’m proposing or anything!” Wilkes protested. 

Argyris dumped his book and scroll on the end of his bed before collapsing backward. “You two done already for the night?” 

“Yes.” 

Wilkes shook his head. “I’ve never been happier to be less than eight centuries Pureblood or my parents would have submitted a request in my name too.” 

Severus frowned, “If your mother was anything like mine, you would not be so lucky.” 

“Then it’s a good thing my mother is too busy with her animals to care about such things.” 

“When do you think Anastas will be back?” 

“Probably sometime next month,” Lucius guessed. “It can’t take that long after all to learn whatever it is he went to learn.” 

Wilkes shrugged, “Who can say? Harpies are extremely powerful after all and the way they use their magic is very different.” 

Argyris yawned, “I’m just happy that half the school is too busy studying to cause any problems. Even the Marauders have stopped playing pranks.” 

“If they didn’t they would get cursed beyond recognition since everyone is under so much stress. Between the usual schoolwork or exam anxieties and all this miscellaneous studying, lots of students have developed short tempers. Once March appears, everything will go back to normal probably.”

“That’s all wishful thinking in my opinion. With Anastas attending school here, things won’t ever be ‘normal’ again.” Wilkes pointed out before changing into his pajamas.

* * *

**The Training Yard  
Asikis Hall, Rhodope Mountains, Greece  
Wednesday the 22nd of January 1975  
7:54 AM**

 

Anastas stood in the center of the Training Yard, waiting for Zayle to arrive. He had spent the last three days closeted in his room, spending hours unconscious as his ever so helpful parasite gave him mastery over his Harpy abilities. Since then he had tested his control in the privacy of his room but the session with Zayle would be the true test of his abilities. 

Originally he had had fourteen therapontes but after the Incident, he had managed to acquire another eight. While it was an extremely impressive feat to have twenty-two therapontes, Odysseus and later Sarpedon, were utterly perplexed at the odd affinities of his new therapontes. There were two therapontes attuned to the element of either wood or flora, five therapontes that were either attuned to metal or had some dominion over gravity, and the final therapôn, scarily enough, seemed to be attuned to **all** the known elements. 

He supposed that this made up for the fact that he only had an affinity for wind but it had caused no end of complications. For one, it had fascinated the Harpies to no ends and caused quite a bit of jealousy. That he, who had very distant Harpy blood, had managed to manifest not only as a Squall but to have such powerful therapontes had pricked at the pride of quite a few of the Harpies. No doubt that was what had frustrated Elder Asikis to the point of assigning his son to be his trainer, that he had so much potential and so poor control was simply too aggravating. 

It may appear strange for him to gain such control in a matter of a few days but hopefully his departure later this afternoon, he hoped, would halt their curiosity. There was no need to stay here if he had already mastered all that he would need to know about his abilities, not when there was so much to be done. 

Zayle grumbled irritably as he approached his student. If the young tiercel could not handle today’s lesson, one of the most basic, then he too would wash his hands of such a student. As he set foot into the Training Yard, he paused. His student stood alone in the Training Yard, eyes closed as his upturned face was tilted toward the cloud covered sky. Something had changed, that much he could tell. 

Smiling slightly Zayle continued forward, perhaps now they would finally see what the tiercel was capable of.

* * *

**The Basement  
The Golden Hind, Western Antioch  
Sunday the 26th of January 1975  
10:29 AM**

 

Joseph Murdoch was no stranger to danger, having spent the majority of his life living as a Mercenary. It was an occupation that suited him perfectly, allowing him the freedom to live a life on the knife’s edge while making a fortune. Many of those who ended up in the profession had a very open mind when it came to magic and its uses. Some would say that mercenaries lacked morals but there was a code of sorts that governed their actions though only those in the trade were aware of it. As one might expect, murder and torture or sabotage and thievery were not violations. For many that was simply how they earned their bread and butter. 

The few things that were punishable offenses numbered three. Firstly, a Mercenary never, ever sells out another Mercenary. Secondly, respect is always due to those who have seniority in the trade and lastly, no Mercenary contracts are allowed to be taken out on another Mercenary, their family or those under their protection. These were the rules that the Mercenaries lived by and these were the rules that kept the trade as fair as it could be. 

To outsiders it may look as though all Mercenaries are the same but that, of course, is not the case. For instance, if one wants an item ‘recovered’ it was in their best interest to take a contract with the Nifflers, if you want someone dead you see the Grims, if you want someone roughed up you go see the Nundus, Augeries were best for work that involved people and Kelpies were used for anything that required subterfuge.

Murdoch had never belonged to any of five esteemed Mercenary companies. He was among the two or three dozen Mercenaries who worked alone and could do whatever was needed. Only three others had more seniority than him, though he was only one left that had the freedom to act. 

Rupert Borden and his crew had stupidly taken a job that no veteran Mercenary should have even considered. They had attempted to kidnap the Lund-Torres heir and now they were rotting in some dungeon in Asturias. 

When he had gotten wind of the news, a few hours after events had unfolded he had scoffed. “Interfering with Purebloods can be dangerous, robbing Nobility can get you killed, but if you’re stupid enough to so much as **cough** on Royalty you’re going to die, painfully.” 

And he was right. The damned Asturians had been ruthless. Borden’s crew had been tortured until they sang like songbirds about every goddamned thing they knew. They hadn’t been allowed to die though, the Torres’ were after blood and they couldn’t openly attack unless they had proof and Borden’s crew was it. Now the Asturians were on the trail, looking for the client that had issued the contract practically thirsting for blood and willing to do anything to get it. 

Murdoch would have thought that Borden’s fall from grace would have been object lesson enough for the other Mercenaries. Sadly, the idiocy didn’t end there. 

Two Grims ended up very dead less than three weeks after Borden’s crew wound up in a cell in Asturias. This time, they had stupidly tried to kill the Lund-Torres Heir and gotten ripped apart in spectacular fashion. Prince Estavan was not amused at the attempt on his grandson and had sent the remains, and a curt letter, to the most well known Mercenary gathering place– the infamous Golden Hind. 

As he was the senior most Mercenary present, Murdoch had had the dubious honor of opening the package and reading the contents of that letter to the room at large. It was a very clear and concise letter which basically told the Mercenaries as a whole that if anyone accepted a contract that had anything to do with the Lund-Torres Heir or Asturias, the Prince would whip the elite Purebloods into a law abiding frenzy and have the organization stomped out. 

Murdoch had taken the warning to heart, knowing that it would be the only warning they would get before that threat became a reality. None of the other Mercenaries had any problems when he declared that Asturias and the Lund-Torres Heir were now off limit. No one else was greedy or stupid enough to get involved now that eight of their number had either wound up dead or were currently living under a death sentence.

The months following had been quiet and filled with the same usual business. Mercenaries came and went as they often did and new recruits filled in the empty ranks of those that hadn’t survived their contracts. 

It was a rainy Sunday morning and Murdoch was calmly indulging in a few drinks as he cleaned his favorite set of knives. Business had been slow today as few wanted to venture out in the downpour. The few Mercenaries in the basement of the Golden Hind were relaxing over drinks and cards as they reminisced about money, women and thrilling jobs. 

A subtle shift in the room caused him to look up from his task, looking warily around the smoke filled room. At the base of the stairs was a lithe figure in black. Murdoch tensed as he felt the stranger look in his direction. Instinct told him that whoever this person was, they were dangerous. It took years of experience to act nonchalant as the stranger wove through the room and headed directly for him. 

“Are you Murdoch?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’d like to offer you a contract.” 

“I’m listening.” 

The stranger stared down at him. “I need to arrange an…accident.” 

“How much are you offering and who?” 

“Money is no object. As for the target, it’s not so much a person as an event. I need a large disturbance caused at the first Anterior Courtship gathering to be held in the honor of Anastas Lund-Torres.” 

Murdoch shook his head immediately. “No way, not for all the money in Gringotts.” 

The stranger tensed visibly. “It should be a simple enough task.” 

“None of the Mercenaries want anything to do with anyone connected to Asturias. We lost enough men to the Asturians.” 

The stranger turned away. “Very well, I will take my business elsewhere.” 

“Please do.” Murdoch retorted, returning to his original task. The minute after the stranger had gone Murdoch emptied his shot of Firewhisky feeling troubled. 

There was something about the Lund-Torres heir that just seemed to attract attention and trouble. Murdoch knew that this would not be the last person to approach the Mercenaries with a contract involving the powerful wizard. If their way of life was to be preserved he would have to use all his resources to keep track of what his fellow comrades were doing. 

Clients, in his experience, rarely looked ahead at the future and their long distance goals were not always well thought out. The Lund-Torres heir may be an untrained wizard of good blood and great power but someday he would be a wizard that could not be challenged. Raised under the scrutiny of the _Haute Monde_ and a treacherous Royal Court, there was no way that the wizard wouldn’t grow to be intelligent and ruthless. Surviving to adulthood in such an atmosphere would require it and while he may not be at liberty to act openly against those that slighted him, he would remember each transgression and take the proper due later when his position in the world was assured. 

Making an enemy out of such a potentially dangerous wizard was only a mistake the idiotic or the desperate would make and he was neither.

* * *

**The Pontic Mountains, Turkey  
Monday the 27th of January 1975  
3:48 AM**

 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I am under orders.” 

Evaristo sighed with obvious frustration. “Obviously, you could not have borrowed his body and gotten so far with it if you had not had his permission. Perhaps what I should have asked is what are you planning on doing now that you have his trust?” 

“I desire many things and his safety is foremost in my mind. Until he makes a decision about what he wishes to do, I will carry out the tasks assigned to me.” 

“And when he makes a decision?” 

A shrug. “His life, no– his very essence, is precious to me and irreplaceable. While I would be more at ease if he chose a less dangerous path, he would never be the one that I loved if he did not do what he thought right. My love will have every advantage that I can give him and every aid, no matter what the cost. His happiness is all that matters to me and I have promised to give him the life which he most deserves. The rest of the world will perish if it is his desire.” 

“You can be content with the situation?” 

“The constant exposure to mortal ideas has infected me over the years; it has made me crave things which I was never created to want, let alone have. For now the situation is bearable for me but in the future who can say? I will never put in him any unnecessary danger so even if I am tempted; there is one boundary that will always hold me back.” 

“Will he remain stable with you sharing his body like this?” 

“There has never been any danger in our sharing his body. Perhaps there once was but we have long since become used to each other’s presence, even if he is unaware of that fact. Regardless I will take the steps necessary to procure a suitable temporary host in order to conduct the tasks he has left me. I need only replicate my essence and transfer it to the temporary vessel.” 

“Won’t that leave Anastas unprotected?” 

“It would be like dividing my attention between two separate tasks really. There is no danger to either my host or the temporary vessel.”

“I see. Please be careful.”

“Have no fear; I know what I am doing.”

“…I hope so.” Evaristo murmured as he watched the other continue on his trek through the mountains.

* * *

Evaristo brooded as he slowly made his way back to Antioch. 

While this course of action had always remained a possibility, he had never seriously thought that it would come to pass. Anastas had always been too focused on gaining the advantage in the forthcoming war and then single-handedly wiping out Voldemort, to give his passenger more attention than necessary. Evaristo had never seen anyone as trapped and damaged by the past as his son and though the path he had chosen was not one he expected, he was relieved that Anastas had finally decided to stop letting the past influence his choices for the future. 

The future was always uncertain as the possibilities were constantly changing with each decision and action but with this choice Anastas had set back all the chaotic or disastrous futures that had remained available as immediate possibilities. 

By his estimation, if Anastas stayed this course until April, the odds of a bloody and destructive war decreased by a quarter. If Anastas somehow managed to stay undecided until fall or even winter, the War itself could probably be put off for another several years unless some other unknown element provoked it. It was too soon yet to view the possibilities of a future wherein Anastas chooses to take no action but Evaristo guessed that if such possibilities existed, the War would take longer to be resolved but would be less destructive. In nearly all the current possible futures, the War would be highly destructive but extremely short, lasting at the most five years and at the least, several months. 

It did not surprise him that in all the futures he had seen, spanning a decade of careful notation; Anastas not only was alive but **always** thrived. Evaristo attributed it to the ancient being that had taken residence in his son. It was a construct of pure energy and once it took refuge in a host, had unlimited potential. He had known of its existence of course but once it had fully woken in this world all the possible futures had been shifted to unbelievable extremes. 

Still, Evaristo was determined to persevere no matter how difficult things became and he knew that events would only become worse. No one knew Anastas as he did and no matter what he had told his family, he had not chosen Anastas to be his heir due to any gains he would make for the family. Those reasons, which he kept to himself, simply surpassed such trivial things as influence or wealth.

* * *

**Anastas’ Bedroom  
Torres Villa, Luarca, Asturias  
Tuesday the 4th of February 1975  
8:00 AM**

 

The room was bathed in the scent of lavender and Anastas’ twitching form was tucked under a mountain of blankets. When he had arrived he was on the edge of a dangerously high fever, one that his ‘houseguest’ had stimulated to avoid any unnecessary questions. From the moment he had settled down to sleep, he had relinquished control to his ally to pursue the goals that he himself could not carry out. 

Anastas twisted in his bed as he was caught in the throws of yet another nightmare of the world he had left behind.

* * *

FLASHBACK

* * *

Thunder roared ominously as lightning flashed in the sky. A harsh wind blew through the battlefield clogging his nose with the scent of death and scorched earth. As he dragged his exhausted body through the charred battlefield, he could feel the blood on his clothes drying in sticky clumps. 

Unidentifiable corpses lay scattered over the desolate field as the dark clouds twisted and writhed above like a pile of squirming maggots seeking sustenance. A year ago such a scene would have sent him to his knees emptying the contents of his stomach, but today it just left him feeling empty. 

How he longed for the days where he had been no one of importance and had no future to speak of. Better the misery of his childhood than the all-consuming guilt and sorrow that currently dogged his every footstep. Then he had had no purpose, no thought for the future, whereas now he had only one hopeless task and no one left but a voice in his mind to keep him sane.

This desolate field was devoid of life. The Maelstrom had firstly leeched all the nearby magic from every source available to it and then it had churned and churned, deeper and deeper as it collected until it hit a natural ley-line of magic. When the two came into contact, one unmoving, limitless force and the other traveling at enormous speeds, a backlash had ensued. All the power of the Maelstrom funneled back up like a pent up geyser and the raw magic was re-shaped into a massively destructive force. As the power flooded outward, it destroyed everything in its path as completely as a nuclear bomb.

Harry had set out to find power and that power had warped him into something unrecognizable. Now he felt like a monster, one whose appetite for bloodshed and destruction put all the stories of demons and monsters to shame. Why could they not have named him anything other than Diablo? Names, he had learned, had great power and the being that had taken refuge in his body had been only too happy to mold his power to suit the name they had given him. 

As the rain pounded down from the heavens, Harry slowly trudged away from the wasteland. The rain soaked his clothes and washed away the blood and lingering smudges of dirt but the destructive magic that wafted from his form would remain. Isolated as he was from the world and coming out only to fight battles, he sank deeper and deeper into his own misery and guilt. For too long his only companions had been a nameless voice in his mind and a primitive, hungering beast that he was all too afraid was not a separate identity that his nameless companion had created. 

Harry had to find Voldemort soon, before the madness or the guilt destroyed his sanity any further. Everything was not yet lost...but it was only a matter of time.

* * *

END FLASHBACK

* * *

With a shudder, Anastas came to full awareness. Blearily he stared at the canopy of his bed evaluating his situation. His body ached faintly but it was no longer fevered and his hair and skin was oily. Disgusted, he climbed out of bed and headed directly for his bathroom to take a shower. 

Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed and searching the secret compartment in his room. A short note explained what had occurred during his dormancy and underneath that was a wooden chest. Lifting the lid he checked the contents inside with a mix of anxiety and relief. 

A thick dragonhide book lay half covered by a thin strip of Null Fabric, held down by thirteen glass vials filled with a strange, glittering peach liquid. 

Raising his hand, he reached out as if to touch the book and felt the familiar, grasping presence reach out to him. Satisfied that all was as it appeared to be, Anastas closed the chest and cast several difficult Locking and Warding Charms on the chest. Then he set two of his therapontes to guard the secret compartment. 

Now that he had secured the greatest threat and unknown this world had, everything else could be left to fall out as it would.

* * *

**Notes:**

1) Vega is loosely translated from Arabic as ‘the falling eagle’ or ‘the swooping vulture’. In this context, the League uses the translation literally. They view him as an obvious threat whose motives are as of yet, unknown.

2) In Asturian Myth a Cuélebre is a giant, winged serpent that live in caves hoarding treasure and holding xana (akin to faires) prisoner. Cuélebre are immortal and the older they get their scales become more thick and impenetrable. On Midsummer night they are at their weakest and that is when brave men can try to slay the Cuélebre. 

3) Every three years the magical Asturians have a festival in which they celebrate the longevity of the Kingdom. It is a two day festival and on the final day (which is Midsummer) seven wizards or witches can attempt to slay the Cuélebre. If a person succeeds they can claim all the treasure the Cuélebre was guarding and earn a noble rank. 

4) Oxyuranus, Aipysurus, Pelamis, Bungarus, Notechis, Echis, Crotalus and Naja are all the Genus names of several different species of snakes. I picked these snakes because they are considered some of the most deadly and in some cases, are also very venomous. That should give you a clue about the nature of this organization that Luiz runs.

**Regarding NO GOOD DEED: It will be written focused on the group of people that Not-Friend has been asked to assemble and will have a great deal of perspective from Not-Friend which is quite vital to the story. At the beginning of the next GI chapter and the NGD chapter there will be a notice explaining which chapter needs to be read first.**

**NEXT CHAPTER** : Expect a time jump, flashbacks, lots more information about Anterior Courtship Rituals and hopefully, I will get around to properly introducing the Focalors. 

Please review; I could really use the feedback! 

-SheWolfe7 (4-19-08)


	8. Chapter VII: Culpability

  
Author's notes: Anastas meets several different people, Evaristo is troubled, An unpleasant truth is revealed and Not-Friend makes his opinion clear on several matters.  


* * *

A/N: This is the longest chapter yet (41 pages) and early to boot! Another plot twist is revealed along with foreshadowing some future troubles. Un-beta’ed, I apologize in advance for any errors.

**READ THIS CHAPTER: BEFORE NGD 1**  
NGD 1 is pretty much a continuation of the prologue but there are a few spoilers for this chapter that are a bit downplayed in NGD. I’m exhausted from editing this beast so look for NGD 1 tomorrow.

Text Formatting:   
‘Character thoughts’  
 **Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info**  
 _Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_  
\- _Parseltongue_ -  
:: Telepathy ::

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)  
 **Good Intentions  
By: SheWolfe7**

Chapter VII:  
Culpability

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Private Dining Room  
Torres Villa, Luarca, Asturias  
Tuesday the 4th of February 1975  
8:45 AM**

 

Breakfast was a strangely quiet affair, one that put the Royal Guardsmen standing at attention at the end of the room on edge. The father and son had always had lively discussions while they supped, no matter what troubles the two had to deal with. Captain Renaldo, the head of Prince Evaristo’s Private Guard, observed his charges with concern. It had been obvious to everyone that Prince Evaristo deeply cared for the well being of his son, so why were the two acting so oddly? 

He had served as Captain to Prince Evaristo’s Private Guard for over a dozen years now and was trusted implicitly. Renaldo was privy to all of Prince Evaristo’s affairs and he had always performed whatever task had been asked of him without question. For ten years he spent one hour a week in a small orphanage in Zafra manipulating the memories of Muggles and forging the necessary paperwork for an orphan that did not exist. 

It had been both a relief and a trial when the Prince had brought home a young teenage boy in June. While it spelled the end of his weekly visits to Zafra, it also caused him to spend five extremely long days (using a Timeturner no less) making all the appropriate changes to the documents and memories of the Muggles at the orphanage. Every loose end had to be neatly tied to prevent any later investigations from discovering anything out of the ordinary. 

During the summer, Renaldo had spent a great deal of his time around the new young master of the household and had learned quite a bit. Having served Prince Evaristo as long as he had, he knew better than to ask any questions. All his questions would be answered if the situation warranted it and only when it became necessary for him to know. So he carefully paid close attention to what was known to the Royal Family to be true, what the general public thought was true and most of all, what was unsaid. 

Renaldo would not dare to say that he understood the whole situation or what motivated either of his charges, but he could honestly say that if he lived to retire he would count himself lucky.

Anastas finished his orange juice, wiped his mouth, and set his napkin on his plate. “There are some appointments that I must deal with so I’ll be staying at the Palacio until the end of the week. I will be unreachable for most of Monday and Tuesday next week so if anyone inquires about my whereabouts, tell them that I’m still training with Elder Asikis. I’ve decided that it will be inconvenient to return to Hogwarts this year so I will continue my independent studies and take the standard evaluations at the end of the regular school year.”

Evaristo looked vaguely amused. “I see. You plan to continue building your contacts through social gatherings then, as we discussed last summer?” 

“Yes, I think it best for this first year.”

“Very well, that is suitable with my plans. Before you leave I think it best to inform you that you are to slay the Cuélebre on Midsummer night this year.” 

“And why pray tell, am I to slay the legendary Cuélebre?” Anastas questioned disbelieving. 

“Simply put…politics.” 

Anastas groaned with heartfelt irritation. “I hate politics nearly as much as I despise all the goddamned useless social necessities I now have to abide by. Dare I ask why I was given such a normally hopeless task?” 

“The Courtiers doubt your loyalty and this was the most efficient way to prove that you are not a threat to the succession. Your Granduncle would have had you Bound to the Family had I not known of an alternate path.” 

“I see,” Anastas commented with a frown. “Never let it be said that no advantage comes without a price of some sort. Still, it could have been much worse. It looks like I will have to stop by the Library before I take my leave.”

Evaristo nodded slowly before staring intently at him. “I know why you’re leaving and I will not stop you. There are issues in your past that you have avoided too long and you will never be able to actively plan for the future until you deal with those issues. Take things slowly and only commit yourself to making a decision when you have all the information at your disposal. Nothing bad will come of waiting a few months, possibly even a full year. Do not rush matters.” 

Anastas knew his adopted father’s Gift was strong and would heed his words. “I will do my best.” 

“Good. Is there anything else?” 

“No. I’ll see you soon.” 

Evaristo smiled, “Have a good trip.”

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**A Private Bath  
The Nautilus, Magnus Court, Italy  
Thursday the 6th of February 1975  
11:02 PM**

 

Cyril cautiously glanced up and down the hallway before unlocking the door to the private bath he had been assigned. The Nautilus was a well known spa and resort that was frequented by all sorts of wizards and witches from around the world. He could not afford being seen here as it would result in a scandal which he wanted to avoid at all costs. 

There were already rumors that he was having an affair which, while unconfirmed, posed no serious threat to his situation but a scandal with photographic evidence would ruin all his plans. If things continued as they had for the next three years, when his youngest son Cleto turned fifteen, he would finally be able to divorce his wife Magda and eventually marry his own secret love.

For the last eighteen years he had paid the price of underestimating an opponent and with his freedom so close, he would not make the same mistake again. Had he the strength, he would stop meeting his love but her presence was the only bright light in his life. 

Fausto, his eldest son, was the living proof of his entrapment and though he knew that it was his own actions which had led to his marriage, he could not help feeling resentment towards his own son. In the early years of his marriage, his negative emotions and his unstable behavior had nearly led to his own ejection from the Family. If his father had not intervened by removing his grandchildren from their care and into his own, there could be no telling how his children might have turned out raised in such a hostile environment.

After his children had gone, Cyril was finally able to clearly see what sort of man he had become. He had allowed all his negative feelings to fester and grow until he became as selfish and spiteful as his wife. Worse yet, he had lashed out at his own children who were entirely blameless. The shame of what he had done never quite diminished in all these years and he had taken great pains to remain distant from his children, for fear falling back into bad habits. 

To this day Cyril considered his past behavior to be his greatest failure as both a man and a father. He had sired three healthy, gifted sons and he was practically a stranger to them. He was a disgrace. It was too late to become a true father to his sons as the damage had already been done, so the best he could do for them now was to set them free. 

As he locked the door behind him, Cyril smiled as he saw her in the candlelight. Her curly brown hair hung around her waist in thick waves, her skin shone like honey, and her voluptuous body was covered in a robe of aqua silk. For several moments they simply stood still, watching the other.

Apolinar’s wife Isabella was heralded as the most beautiful woman in Spain but in his eyes, no other woman could ever compare to his love. Cyril had known her all his life and had never loved anyone but her. Their love, when it was known, would cause a great scandal. A love like theirs was forbidden.

Cyril was the Warlord Presumptive, grandson of a Sovereign Prince and Ramona was a Duchess, daughter of a Prince of Asturias. 

They were second cousins, one from the Primary line of succession and the other from the Secondary. By no means was intermarriage between members of the first four lines of succession allowed unless both parties were disowned and sterilized. It was a decree that had been inked in the blood of a slain Sovereign Prince following the usurping of the Asturian throne and a three month long civil war in the early tenth century. 

It was a price that they were both willing to pay. Both of them had done their duty, they had each married and had children to insure the proper continuation of their bloodlines. His father had raised his own children and Ramona’s two children would be well cared for by her brother-in-law. They would endure the scandal and the stipulations for their marriage because both of them had suffered enough apart. Only these precious stolen hours together had made either of their lives bearable and even then, the constant fear of discovery allowed neither of them to fully relax. Better to have their relationship open for the entire world to see than to continue creeping around like criminals. 

Almost at once the two moved together until they were locked in a tight embrace. It was the first time they had met privately since early December as Cyril had been too busy with Family affairs to sneak away for a few hours. 

“I’ve missed you,” Cyril murmured brushing tender kisses along Ramona’s face. 

“We both have our obligations,” Ramona answered, tightening her arms around him. 

Cyril gazed into her dark eyes. “Someday soon there won’t be any obstacles left to prevent us from the happiness that we deserve to have together.” 

“That day cannot come soon enough.”

“It **will** come though, I promise you that my love.” Cyril commented before kissing her.

Ramona only deepened the kiss. It would be hard but the end result would be worth waiting for.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Formal Receiving Room  
Ithavoll Castle, Lake Vänern, Sweden  
Friday the 7th of February 1975  
9:07 AM**

 

Under the watchful gaze of a dozen Royal Guardsmen, Anastas patiently awaited his appointment with Her Majesty Erika, Queen of Sweden. 

Originally he had not anticipated having to meet with the monarch this year but due to the sudden shift in his plans, it was best to get the matter over and dealt with. According to tradition, he could not assemble an Asturian Private Guard until he was formally acknowledged by the Torres Family at his majority at age eighteen. The Lund Family had been a noble family as well and had he any surviving family; he would have had to wait until he was sixteen to assemble a Guard. Luckily, as the sole Lund descendant all he needed to do was formally make a request of the ruling monarch to quicken the proceedings. Of course Anastas knew that he would not get such a request without paying some price. As he knew, there were no such things as freebies. Not when it came to politics and anything that had to do with power. 

When it came down to politics he was something of a double edged sword. He was a Prince of Asturias and a Friherre (Baron) of Sweden, the former taking precedence over the latter according to the internationally recognized Blood Rite Laws. His unique position gave him a great deal of authority in Asturias and, to a lesser extent, Sweden. Both allowed him to have a fairly large number of guardsmen pledged to his service. As a Prince of the Secondary degree, he was allowed a Private Guard force of 1,500 and as a Friherre of Sweden; he would be allowed a Guard of 3,000. That allowed him to have as a whole 4,500 Guardsmen, which considerably outnumbered all but the greatest nobles and his dual nationality would allow his Guardsmen to travel freely in either country. 

Anastas had no doubt that he would be able to gain Queen Erika’s approval to assemble a Guard as her approval would only benefit her in the long run. 

Twenty minutes passed by in utter silence before a herald dressed in the black and amber Wifstrand colors came to escort him to the Throne Room. As they passed through the wide corridors of Ithavoll Castle, Anastas absently noted the hanging tapestries portraying ancient battles and the carved runes on the walls that acted both as decoration and protection. Courtiers, Guards, and Servants prowled the corridors as the Swedish Court had a lively Winter Season. Anastas pasted a polite smile on his face and mulled over the snippets of conversation his therapontes relayed to him. 

At last they reached the ornate carved doors of the Throne Room, a pair of guards opened the door with a bow. Anastas allowed the Herald to enter ten paces ahead of him, as was proper, before following. 

“Presenting His Serene Highness, Prince Anastas Evaristo Rafael Lund-Torres, Prince of Asturias, Heir of the Lund Family of Sweden, and Scion of the Focalor Family of France.”

Anastas kept his gaze focused at the upraised dais at the end of the room, upon which the Queen and several others sat. His therapontes whispered to him the number of Royal Guardsmen hidden throughout the room and their positions. Queen Erika sat in an ornate mahogany throne at the center of the dais. She was a pretty blonde woman in her late forties, dressed in elaborate blue and silver brocade robes. To her left sat Consort Gustav and to her right Crown Prince Birger, both men had dark brown hair and a tall, wiry frame. 

“Your Majesties,” Anastas greeted with a formal bow, stopping a good eight feet away from the bottom of the dais. “I thank you profusely for granting me a private audience so swiftly. I know that with the Winter Court gathered you have little free time.” 

Queen Erika smiled politely, “It is a pleasure to see you again Prince Anastas, I hope that your Family fares well?” 

“Yes they are well, thank you for asking.” 

Prince Birger, sensing his impatience spoke. “What matter did you wish to discuss?”

“With the somewhat dangerous situation that has developed around me, I have come to formally request permission from Her Majesty to assemble the Lund Guard.” Anastas replied simply. 

None of the Royals so much as blinked in surprise. 

“Your request is not unreasonable,” Queen Erika commented after a moment’s silence. 

Anastas shifted slightly in place being careful to look restless and, very clearly, not a threat. “There are other reasons, of course, behind my request. If I may have you pledge of silence on this matter?” 

“Of course,” Consort Gustav agreed, interest piqued. 

“There has been some disagreement within the Family regarding the appropriate venue to host the opening Anterior Courtship Ball. It was at my request that we would host it at Glitnir Castle, the primary residence of my Lund ancestors, and it is my hope to have a full Lund Guard in attendance. As no one has visited in two centuries, initial evaluations have proved that it would be an appropriate venue. As we speak, it is currently undergoing massive renovations and modernization.” 

At his words, the Queen’s interest was obviously caught, just as he had expected. Inwardly he smiled, now if all the rest of his errands would have such a positive outcome.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Master Forge  
Cargenven Keep, Wales  
Friday the 7th of February 1975  
10:25 AM**

 

Niall carefully navigated his way around his husband’s personal forge. Several house elves popped back and forth in the forge, some carrying wood for the fire, others carrying raw ore, buckets of water, or other materials. The sound of hammering allowed him to approximate his husband’s location. Just as he rounded the corner he heard a loud hiss and spotted his husband lowering a red-hot sword into a bucket of water to cool. 

“There you are!”

Aodh turned, frowning. “Is there a problem with Santoro’s sword?” 

“No it’s fine; I’m having no trouble etching the runes on it. I’ve come about another matter.” 

“It’s important enough to disturb my work?” 

“I certainly think so,” Niall commented as he withdrew a scroll from his tunic. Twisting it around in his hand, he displayed the Royal Crest of Asturias. 

Aodh hummed as he stalked to a nearby sink to wash his hands. When he returned, he took the scroll and opened it. 

_Lord Aodh Cargenven-_

_Si Vales Valeo: (1)_

_I, Prince Anastas Evaristo Rafael Lund-Torres, Prince of Asturias, Heir to the Lund Family of Sweden and Scion of the Focalor Family of France, would like to formally request your presence and that of anyone you deem necessary at a private meeting at my home Glitnir Castle, to discuss an important business matter. It is my hope to have this gathering on Tuesday the 18th of February following a formal dinner at seven o’clock._

_Your discretion is greatly appreciated in this matter. Please contact me as soon as possible regarding your attendance and the number of additional guests. If this time is inconvenient for you and yours, please let me know immediately and I will find a more suitable date and time for this meeting._

_Sincerely,_

_Anastas Lund-Torres  
Prince of Asturias, Heir to the Lund Family of Sweden and Scion of the Focalor Family of France_

__**Memores acti prudentes future. (Mindful of what has been done, aware of what will be. Torres Motto.)  
Aut concilio aut ense. (Either by meeting or by the sword. Lund Motto)  
Varium et mutabile simper femina. (Woman is always a changeable and capricious thing. Focalor Motto)**

“Intriguing,” Aodh murmured as he handed the scroll to his husband. 

“Will we attend?” 

“It would be sheer foolishness not to. Besides, it should be interesting to find out what precisely this business matter is.” 

Niall looked thoughtful. “Do you think it has something to do with his Adamantine mining or a commission of some sort?” 

“Either would suit me but I suppose that we will find out for certain in two weeks.”

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Slytherin Common Room  
Hogwarts, Scotland  
Friday the 7th of February 1975  
11:03 PM**

 

Lucius stared at the three letters he had spread out on the floor in front of him. None of the letters contained any good news and the last, could easily be considered a huge setback in all his plans. For the last half hour he had done nothing but re-read them and wonder what his next step should be. 

The first letter was from his father and was short and simple.

_Lucius,_

_I have placed your brother in charge of providing you with the necessary studying materials for the coming trials. My role will be providing you the necessary learning enhancement potions and devices. Enclosed are several Memory Enhancing potions I had a respectable Potions Master brew and seven pieces of the famed Apples of Wisdom. Use everything wisely and especially in the appropriate dosages!_

_Your Father,_  
Abraxas Hadrian Malfoy   
Patriarch of the Malfoy Family of Britain 

_**Mundus vult decipi. (The world desires to be deceived. Malfoy Motto )** _

The next letter, of course, was from his brother Cassius. It was not as detailed as his father’s though the books he had included made up for the terseness. 

_Lucius-_

_The competition will be harsh. I am looking for more books for you but study the ones enclosed for the time being._

__Hawking’s Wizarding Families. By: Hawking’s Genealogical Press. 22 vols.  
Introduction to Wizarding Etiquette.  By: Angelica Prowe-Anderson. 10 vols.  
“100 years of Scandal!” By: Fiona Rupert and Jacques-Pierre Marceau. Magpie Digest.   
Dueling: A History.  By: Professor Sebastian Hart. 12 vols.  
Staff and Sword: A memoir.  By: General Winslow Ives.  
Blood, Sweat, and Tears.  By: Edith Marlowe.   
Wizarding Society.  By: L.R. Yang. 40 vols.  
International Laws and Regulations.  By: ICMC.  
Encyclopedia of Spells.  By: Amon Press Co. 32 vols.  
Encyclopedia of Charms.  By: Amon Press Co. 40 vols.  
Encyclopedia of Potions.  By: Amon Press Co. 60 vols.  
1,000 Memorable Duels.  By: K. Richards. 10 vols.  
The Art of Conversation.  By: Loretta Collins. 7 vols.  
Asturias.  By: M. Rodriguez. 5 vols. 

_Your brother,_  
Cassius Malfoy  
Heir to the Malfoy Family of Britain 

_**Mundus vult decipi. (The world desires to be deceived. Malfoy Motto)** _

Finally the last letter was from Anastas and only the second letter he had received from his friend and current love interest. 

_Dear Lucius,_

_I am writing this letter from my bedroom at Torres Villa. After a month of training with the Asikis Tempest, I have successfully completed my Squall training to their satisfaction. It was pure hell the majority of the time but in the end, I gave a good show and was allowed to return home._

_Unfortunately, I will not be returning to Hogwarts this year. There are simply too many things that I need to learn in the forthcoming months and though my education is important, returning to Hogwarts would be detrimental to my other obligations. Thankfully I am so far ahead in most of my subjects that I won’t need any tutors and can continue my studies in my spare time. Alas, I suspect I won’t have much of that in the coming months._

_Though there is much work ahead of me, I will continue to write and hope that you will do the same. I’ll tell you more about what I’m doing in my next letter but for now, I have to get going if I hope to make all my appointments today._

_Good luck with your studies, I’ll see you soon hopefully._

_Yours truly,_

_Anastas Lund-Torres  
Prince of Asturias, Heir of the Lund Family of Sweden, and Scion to the Focalor Family of France (a.k.a. the Most Beleaguered Thirteen Year Old Boy in the Wizarding World)_

__**Memores acti prudentes future. (Mindful of what has been done, aware of what will be. Torres Motto.)  
Aut concilio aut ense. (Either by meeting or by the sword. Lund Motto)  
Varium et mutabile simper femina. (Woman is always a changeable and capricious thing. Focalor Motto)**

Lucius snickered slightly as his eyes locked on to Anastas’ parting words. He could almost see the exasperated scowl of his friend as he had scrawled the words before rushing off to some irritating gathering or another. It was that image that reassured him that even if things had not fallen out as he had hoped there was still plenty of opportunities ahead of him. He would have to settle for being Anastas’ confidante for now and that alone would give him enough insight to grant him a slight edge over the other suitors.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**Belciler’s Coliseum, Nineveh  
Saturday the 8th of February 1975  
11:00 AM**

 

Tancred tested all the preventative spells on his robes, closely examined his sword for flaws, and methodically counted the number of potion vials and potion types he carried on his person. When he was satisfied that everything was in order, he pushed open the door to Belciler’s Coliseum and entered.

Belciler’s was an elite club that catered to all forms of Wizarding warfare, be it dueling by magic or by weapon and brute strength. It boasted two dozen different levels, each designed to simulate the most difficult and grueling combat situations imaginable. 

The first six levels were open to anyone who could afford the basic 40,000 Galleon membership fee. Levels seven to twelve were accessible to clients with a 70,000 Galleon membership and one Magical Mastery, while levels thirteen through eighteen were open only to those with two Magical Masteries and a 125,000 Galleon membership. Nineteen through twenty-one were memorably known as Purgatory and the final three dubbed Hell; being the most elite levels access to them required a 180,000 Galleon membership, total completion of all lower levels with a perfect score, and a signed liability waiver (in the event of the client’s untimely death). (2) 

There was simply no better place to hone one’s skill in combat and Tancred had every intention of spending every available moment training here in preparation for the Combat Ritual portion of the Anterior Courtship Rituals. As he walked into the foyer, he saw with some irritation, that he was not the only one here for that purpose. The foyer was filled with at least four dozen wizards and witches engaged in idle conversation as they waited for vacancies in the Dueling Halls.

“Tancred I would have thought you would have been in the Halls for hours! It’s not like you to get such a late start.” A grinning blond man called out as he strode forward. 

“You’re surprised? Heh, I’m amazed simply to see you out of bed before noon Leon.” 

The blond only shook his head. “No doubt your formidable Uncle has been nagging you ceaselessly but he’s no match for my honorable Lady mother. She Flooed over to my townhouse at the crack of dawn to pry me out of bed this morning, if you can believe it!” 

“Where the Lady Beatrice is involved, nothing is impossible.” Tancred commented with a smile. “How is your respectable Lady mother?” 

“Lady Francisca is quite well and will likely badger me to invite you to dinner now that I’ve finally run into you. It’s been ages since we last spoke! What have you been doing?” 

“As if you would understand even if I explained it in layman’s terms! Now, if one of your mothers’ asked, I would be more than happy to explain what I have been doing. Honestly, I could never understand how you could be so…dense when your mothers are easily the most brilliant witches in their respective fields!” 

Leon groaned, “It’s bad enough that hear it once a week when I go home for dinner, the last thing I need is to hear it from a friend. It’s ridiculous how I’m viewed as some damned black sheep simply because I didn’t pursue the tried and true path to familial glory. My regular Qudditch team has won eleven National Cups and we’ve won the World Cup two times since I was drafted for the National team.”

Tancred sighed, “I never said that you were worthless, I personally just think it’s a damned waste of your intellectual ability to ride around on a broom all day.” 

“At least Quidditch makes me happy which is more than I can say of what I could have been doing.” Leon spat darkly. 

“Calm down Leon, I can tell you’ve been under a great deal of stress and I apologize for teasing you.” 

Leon ran a hand through his wavy blond hair, trying to ease his frustration. “No, I’m sorry for ranting at you. It’s just been a hellish couple of weeks and the fact that Lady Beatrice has been nagging and needling me hasn’t improved my mood any. I’m not interested in pursuing the Lund-Torres heir so the fact that I’ve been herded into it is just annoying me.” 

“Have you even met him?” 

“No, and honestly from what I’ve heard, I probably wouldn’t be interested in him anyway. Apparently when my family was first introduced to him, they ended up talking about Mildred Roth’s newest book on Arithmancy theorems. His views on the subject had the three of them completely entranced. Now my mothers are anxious for a match and Massimo’s utterly smitten by him.” 

“I see,” Tancred replied, sighing mentally as he added both brothers onto his list of rivals. 

“If Master Leonzio Avanzo would please come forward to the front desk, his Dueling Hall is available.” A loud voice boomed around the Foyer. 

Leon grimaced at the use of his full name which he hated passionately. “Will you join us on Wednesday for dinner?” 

“Seven as usual, at the villa in Florence?” 

“Of course,” 

“Then I’ll be happy to; don’t forget to tell your Lady mothers.” 

Snort. “As if I could, have a nice wait. I’ll see you later in the week.” 

“Don’t get killed.” 

Leon laughed as he walked away. “As if I could afford to, winter training starts in a week!” 

Tancred chuckled, “And we both know how much you love the nightlife in Naples, yes.” 

“A man’s got to have his vices, especially young men!” Leon retorted, stealing the last word. 

A harassed looking wizard approached him, “Good morning and welcome to Belciler’s Coliseum. If I could please see your Membership token, sir?” 

Wordlessly, Tancred took out a gold token, the size of his palm and engraved with a Nundu. 

“Ah, and your name?” 

“Tancred Peverell, Heir of the Peverell Family of Britain and Scholar of Wizarding Rites and Relics.” 

The wizard duly noted his name and membership. “The wait for a Level Thirteen vacancy is at minimum forty minutes.” 

“I will be more than willing to wait. Is Belciler scheduling for tomorrow or the forthcoming weeks?” 

“Mr. Belciler has announced that there will be a queue drawing later this week. A notice will be sent to your residence two days before the drawing.” 

“I see, thank you for the information.” Tancred said with a nod. 

The wizard gave a short bow before wandering off to gather information on those that had arrived after him. Tancred moved deeper into the foyer, carefully noting the other people gathered. 

A boisterous wizard clad in royal blue robes, talking to a trio of wizards in the far corner, was Aubrey Kissinger if memory served. The wizard was in his early thirties and was a world-renown Law Wizard. His companions were Colum Mahoney a well known American Hit Wizard, Harvard de Vigny a Canadian Unspeakable, and Reginald Holloway a British Undersecretary of the Department of Magical Transportation. 

A lone wizard in black robes leaning against the large fountain turned out to be his nemesis Quian Wen. Tancred’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. The Specialization trials would be difficult enough even without another competitor in the same exact Specialization. What made it even more irritating was that Quian and he were often neck and neck in their field. It would appear that he would need to do some intense study and practice in his own Specialization. 

Quian, who had finally noticed him, smiled slightly as he moved forward to intercept him. “Peverell, how surprising to meet you outside of an excavation,”

“I could say the same of you Quian.” 

For several heartbeats the two simply stared at each other. Quian broke the contest when he spoke. 

“I suppose that we are both here for the same reasons.” 

Tancred raised an eyebrow. “I would venture a guess that almost everyone in Belciler’s is here for the same exact reason.” 

“True enough,” Quian agreed with a slow smile. “He’s quite beautiful and well connected.” 

“Indeed.” 

“My cousin Li Cheng seems quite enamored of him. I saw him on the way out when I arrived.” 

“It’s said that his proposal has already been accepted, his presence here is no surprise. Of course, the two have already met and have already developed a friendship of sorts. At least, that is what I have observed.” Tancred commented. 

Quian’s eyes narrowed slightly at the perceived barb. He, as Tancred knew, had not actually had the pleasure of meeting Lund-Torres. “Friendship is always valuable but it is not enough to build a successful, lifelong relationship.” 

Tancred smirked; his dark eyes alight with amusement. “And you would know, of course.” 

Quian colored partly in rage and partly out of embarrassment. He had been engaged to the youngest daughter of the previous Consul but the engagement had been dissolved two weeks before the nuptials were to take place. Rumors had run amok afterwards but no one truly could say what exactly caused such an advantageous engagement to fall apart. Tancred had a few intriguing ideas but wisely kept them to himself, saving them for a more appropriate time and place. 

Fortunately Quian was called away before the two could switch from exchanging sly insults to dangerous spells.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Basement  
The Golden Hind, Western Antioch  
Saturday the 8th of February 1975  
12:02 PM**

 

Murdoch nearly spat out his mouthful of Firewhisky as he read the front page of _Wizarding World Weekly._

  
**Lund Guard to Assemble!  
By: Jared Kinneas**

_Prince Anastas Lund-Torres, a Prince of Asturias, Heir to the Lund Family of Sweden and Scion of the Focalor Family of France, was given permission from Queen Erika of Sweden to formally assemble the Lund Guard yesterday. Sources within the Swedish Royal Court admitted that Prince Anastas was granted a private audience with the monarchs which lasted close to two hours._

_The Royal Decree which grants Prince Anastas the right to assemble the Lund Guard was released to the public at eight o’clock this morning at the Royal Capital of Ivatholl. A comparison made between the recently written Decree and the Decree which existed in Jacob Lund’s time, has resulted in a few distinct differences. While the number of Guardsmen to be assembled remain the same (3,000) Prince Anastas has been granted leave to gather Guardsmen from outside of Sweden, a distinct deviation from Swedish tradition. With his unique dual nationality, Prince Anastas’ Guard will also be able to freely come and go between his residences in Sweden, Spain, France, Russia and the United States._

_In the wake of this recent development, speculation has since turned to the Asturian Royal Family and the state of the Asturian Court. Last month it was announced that Prince Anastas was to undertake the Cuélebre Slaying at Midsummer. Further details concerning the Asturian Rite have yet to be revealed._

_The following article on page 2 is, in fact, a formal letter composed by Prince Anastas with information to anyone who may be interested in joining his Guard._   


Murdoch quickly swallowed his Firewhisky before hurriedly turning the page.

_Greetings to all,_

_I, Anastas Evaristo Rafael Lund-Torres, Prince of Asturias, Heir to the Lund Family of Sweden and Scion of the Foclaor Family of France,_

_Formally seek the services of qualified adult wizards or witches who possess the following qualities._

_1) Skill in magical and physical combat, both defense and offense_  
2) Loyal and discrete  
3) Willing to work in dangerous situations  
4) Adaptable and open-minded 

_**Requirements, which absolutely must be met:** _

_1) Ability to speak fluently in English and at least one other language_  
2) Is legally an adult in one’s home country, territory, place of birth etc  
3) A Graduate degree from a primary Wizarding School or equivalent (a graduate degree from a secondary institution or a Mastery is preferred)  
4) Non-criminal history is preferred. I will accept those with a criminal history **if** they currently do not have any outstanding warrants and if their criminal history does not include the following: rape, murder, use of Unforgiveables, abuse of illegal substances or prohibited spells used for torture. I reserve the right to eliminate anyone convicted of any other questionable offenses that do not fall in the category of those four crimes.  
5) This is a full-time position and will require relocation  
6) All Guardsmen accepted are required to sign a thirty-year service contract and swear a Wizard’s Oath to keep secret all my affairs and actions.  
7) All Guardsmen accepted will, without question, undergo any additional training I deem necessary. 

_**Benefits include:** _

_1) Room and board, plus meals_  
2) Allowance for weapons, armor and clothes  
3) Full medical care  
4) Forty-five days of vacation, fourteen days of emergency leave, and twenty-one days of sick leave  
5) Regular pay is 100 Galleons a week. Bonuses will be awarded for active combat or merit, each incident will be awarded 20 additional Galleons and is unlimited.   
6) Death benefits include: 10,000 Galleons bestowed to individual(s) of your designation and a full-service funeral of your choosing.  
7) Retirement options begin at 2,500 Galleons and increase depending on one’s record of service and length of service. 

_**Interested individuals that meet these requirements are required to:** _

_1) Send a formal Letter of Introduction-- enclosed with a writ of identity and a copy of official graduate degree(s) and school records.  
2) All Letters and enclosed documents are to be addressed to the following:_

_Secured Evaluation Chamber  
Fensalir Hall, Sweden_

_3) Letters must be received no later than 11:00PM EEST, Sunday March 1st 1975._

_All qualified parties will receive a notice no later than 11:00PM EEST, Sunday March 16th, stating the time and location where assessment tests will be conducted. Testing may take up to two weeks depending on the number of attendees, room and board will be provided free of charge._

_Prospective guardsmen should come prepared to face any and every situation (un)imaginable._

_I look forward to working with you,_

_Anastas Evaristo Rafael Lund-Torres_

Murdoch wasn’t sure what, if anything, to think of this strange announcement. Instinctively he knew that it heralded nothing but trouble and would make keeping an eye on his comrades that much more difficult. Still the boy had brains, he had to admit, and knew what he was looking for and how to get what he wanted.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Fairy Mirror  
Vals-sans-retour, Broceliande Forest, France  
Monday the 10th of February 1975  
1:00 AM**

 

It had taken three days to melt the ice covered Fairy Mirror; three tedious nights working in near darkness so that his presence remained undetected by the other forest dwellers. The Muggles had access to a very small portion of Broceliade and the ancient forest was filled with magics and creatures best left undisturbed. Here at the doorway of Vals-sans-retour stood the Fairy’s Mirror, a minor body of water that acted as a border between the Muggle portion of the forest and the Wizarding. 

A variety of Charms layered into an elaborate web spread across the forest had kept stragglers from wandering near the Mirror until he had completed his business. He would be long gone before the forest dwellers noticed his presence and should they choose to investigate the matter they would find remnants of a ritual older than the forest itself. They would keep their distance after that discovery, as he very well knew. 

All of his most urgent plans had been taken care of and the rest would wait until his return. 

Anastas had painstakingly carved out all the necessary runes in a large spiral that centered along the shore of the Fairy’s Mirror, a process that had taken two full nights as the ground was frozen solid. When he had arrived today, he had filled the runes with a sticky paste made of raw Timeturner Dust mixed with crushed amaranth petals, lotus nectar, and hydra scales. Using a Levitation Charm, he floated above the center of the Fairy’s Mirror as he carefully emptied a vial of peach liquid into the rippling waters below. As the last drop in the vial fell into the sacred waters of the Fairy’s Mirror, Anastas directed himself to the very beginning of the spiral of runes. 

Without hesitation he removed a single phoenix feather from a pouch at his waist and dropped it unerringly onto the very first rune in the spiral. The moment it made contact with the paste filled rune, the feather burst into flames as it devoured the flammable paste. Within seconds the paste was completely consumed and the orange-red phoenix fire turned a blinding white as it sought out sustenance. The air was filled with the scent of burning flowers and melting earth as the phoenix fire jumped to the next closest rune as if it were alive and sentient. 

Pleased that everything was proceeding smoothly, Anastas drifted back to his former location above the center of the Fairy’s Mirror. He watched the phoenix fire enforce the power of his runes which in turn would sustain his ritual while the waters of the Fairy’s Mirror heated below him. As the fire came closer to the shore and the final rune, Anastas shifted his position in the air, turning himself upside down so he was headfirst over the water. The instant the last rune caught fire, he released the Levitation Charm and plunged like a rock towards the water. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the phoenix fire jump onto the surface of the water, igniting the liquid in the vial. Holding his breath, he felt the flames lick at his bare skin and then his entire body was submerged in boiling hot water. 

He hung suspended for only a few torturous seconds and then…his head broke the surface of a pool of temperate water. 

Releasing his breath, Anastas sluiced the water from his hair and face as he looked around the lush oasis. A hot blast of wind caressed his reddened skin, encouraging him to wade out of the pool and take a few Potions to cure the surface damage done to his body. 

Mocking laughter brushed along his right ear. - _Home, sweet home!_ -

Anastas shook his head as he awkwardly clambered onto the smooth stone walkway. “Yours perhaps but this place is most certainly not mine.” 

\- _Yes, I suppose you could say that this is my home. I was ‘birthed’ here after all. Truly a more magnificent prison could not have been built to house me in luxurious comfort!_ -

“It weeded out the greedy didn’t it?” Anastas murmured as he took out several vials from the knapsack around his waist. 

Phantom fingers brushed along the back of his neck. - _So many worthless mortals left without even searching for me, lured away by the perpetual riches left on this island. Then when the power hungry came, I ate them and remained trapped here. Those were dull days…_ -

Anastas drank his potions and then stood up. “I’m exhausted. Which way is the bungalow again?” 

\- _Follow the path bordered by orchids and turn down the third right hand path._ -

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**Palacio d’Asturies, Oviedo, Asturias  
Monday the 10th of February 1975  
6:57 AM**

 

Evaristo stumbled in the hallway, on his way to meet his father and oldest brother in the Throne Room. Alarmed, Captain Renaldo rushed forward, taking hold of his right arm to steady his charge. 

“Prince Evaristo are you well?”

Weakly Evaristo waved his Captain away. “I’m fine…I’m fine.” 

Renaldo frowned and reluctantly let go of the Seer. Evaristo drew a deep breath and released it with a shudder. 

“That son of mine…”

“Your Serene Highness?”

Evaristo merely closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. “He has a long, hard road ahead of him. Change stalks his footsteps and the peace that has sheltered our world will soon break.”

Renaldo felt a chill as he gazed at his charge; he was all too familiar with that expression, a look that spoke of Sight beyond the physical world. 

Evaristo blindly pulled a silk handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed at the drops of blood forming along the edge of his eyes. 

“What is wrong? I have never seen you like this.” Renaldo questioned anxiously. 

“He’s made me blind.” Evaristo murmured clenching the bloodstained scrap of silk. 

“Pardon?” 

Evaristo chuckled softly. “I never would have thought it possible Renaldo. One moment it was there before me like it has always been and in the next it vanished…as if it had never been!” 

“I do not understand.” 

“Each Seer has a unique perception of the future. Most visualize it as a form of water, fluid and mutable. Right now, it is gone as though it had never existed. It would be like emerging from a forest and seeing a desert where an ocean should be.”

Renaldo simply stared, aghast. “What could have happened to cause such a…reaction?” 

“Not a ‘what’ but a ‘who’.” 

“Prince Anastas?” 

“There could be no other likely suspect. But why now, I wonder?” Evaristo muttered as he opened his eyes.

Renaldo said nothing and after a few minutes to regain his bearings, Evaristo continued on his way to the Throne Room. 

It was a meeting that he had hoped he would never have to schedule but a stroke of ill luck had set an unfortunate set of events in motion. The timing could not have been more inconvenient and Evaristo could only ponder whether it had been an accident of fate or a deliberate human manipulation. He could only hope, for their sakes, that it was the former. 

There were few things that Evaristo regretted but his absence from the Asturian Court on a cold December night some nineteen years ago was one of them. So much heartache and bitterness could have been avoided if only he had been closer by. The following incident had proven to be a rude awakening to the Torres’ Family but at least measures had been taken to avoid the entrapment of another of their kin. Still, it was most unfortunate that Cyril had to pay the price. 

Now Ramona and he were likely to pay an even greater price for letting their reckless passion get away from them. It was one thing to pursue such a forbidden love while one of the pair was married and bound by a very strict marriage contract, but it was quite another for that love to bear fruit. The first was scandalous, would lead to expulsion from the Family, as well as other punishments, but the latter…that was literally a treasonous offense. 

Treason in Asturias had always been paid for in blood, and most of the blood that was spilt on the executioner’s block belonged to Wizards and Witches who had committed crimes due to aspirations beyond their reach. A select portion of that blood, however, had belonged to Royals who had committed or tried to commit crimes against the Family or against their monarch. The Torres Family had no mercy for traitors, blood or no. 

Evaristo could only wonder what fate awaited his unlucky cousins.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**Unknown Location**

 

Anastas carefully made his way to the center of the island. A hot summer wind carried the scent of exotic flowers in full bloom mixed with the salty ocean air.

The island as a whole was largely misleading. It was completely circular, perhaps no more than a mile and half wide and was eternally in the thrall of summer. While there appeared to be an endless ocean, it was nothing more than an elaborate illusion. The vegetation that existed on the island, while real, was biologically impossible to coexist. Tropical palms bloomed alongside stately willow trees and flowering cherry and apple trees, paths were lined with orchids, amaranth, snowdrops and lilies. 

A natural spring spawned the natural rock-lined pool that he had arrived through. Rough beaten paths led away from the pool at the heart of the island, leading to a comfortable bungalow, a dozen stone altars, and a large garden filled with herbs and vegetables. Aside from the vegetables and herbs, fruits, nuts and mushrooms could be gathered in the surrounding forest and fish could be found in a wide creek that bisected the island. It was something like a private retreat, only it had existed long before such a concept was ever dreamt of and, of course, it existed in a separate plane of existence. 

From what little his companion was able to tell him, the island was loosely connected to the world at large and was accessible only via certain locations and under special conditions. The mysterious Creator that had made his parasitic companion had likewise made this island and had left the parasite here to be found. All but one of the altars had some sort of treasure ranging from chests full of gold and silver, to priceless gems and fabrics, rare magical ingredients and crystals. 

Anastas had used the island in his world as a safe haven, one only to be used on the rare occasion he was grievously injured or in need of supplies. It was an ideal location as it was secure and, most importantly, time was almost suspended in this world. He could spend months here and return to the real world and find that only a few hours had passed. He had already determined that he could not afford to stay more than half a year here or when he arrived back in the real world, he would be too distanced from events. That should be more than enough time to begin to work through his past and decide what he would do next.

Anastas arrived by the pool and took a seat along the edge, closing his eyes he drew in a deep breath and plunged into his darkest memory. The one from which all his fears stemmed, the one that gave him strength to carry on, but also made him doubt his intentions. All the emotions of betrayal and guilt paled in comparison to the sharp, bitter taste of truth that this memory held for him.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)  
FLASHBACK  
(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

It was almost over. The battlefield was bloodstained and devoid of all life save this one before him. On the ground, Voldemort lay gasping as his lifeblood pumped from his body.

“It’s finally done,” Harry whispered, wiping his cheek with his robe sleeve. 

Voldemort wheezed, “You may have killed me Potter…but I have won.” 

Harry’s dull eyes stared down at him. “What can you possibly mean? I’ve executed all your servants, destroyed all your strongholds, and undone all the evil that you freely wrecked on the Wizarding World.” 

“And what have you become in the process? How many have you killed? The world that remains is nothing…but a shadow of what once…was.” Voldemort gasped out, chuckling softly. “You have been from the very beginning…my tool. My will has been carried out…through you! If I cannot remake this world then I…will…see…it…burn.”

“No,” Harry cried out in disbelief. “No! I have never been your tool! Never!” 

Voldemort grinned. “Oh but you have, silly boy. Don’t you think it strange…that the Goblins gave Weasley…that scroll? Have you ever…known a Goblin…to do something for nothing? When the tunnels collapsed in Rasha’ule…did you not wonder how you…survived unscathed? I led you across the world…continent by continent…and you were only too happy…to follow like a rampaging…dragon! How many innocent people…were unwittingly sacrificed…to your Maelstroms? Can you count the thousands who…starved to death in their wake? How many invoked…your name hoping to be saved…and in turn….how many reviled you for…the terrible price of that…salvation?”

Harry stared, unable to look away and unable to refute the possible truth in those words. 

“Death comes…for me…now. But you…will remain as…my precious legacy...to this…corrupt and misbegotten…world. Wallow…in guilt…and madness…until eternity’s end…my…beloved…enemy! May the world…tremble in fear…  
Dark…Lord…Moros.” Voldemort choked out, blood covered lips twisted into a smirk, and his crimson eyes alight with malice.

Harry watched as Voldemort finally went still, awareness fading from those once bright eyes. 

“Was he telling the truth?” Harry whispered, his whole body shaking unsteadily.

He waited for an answer but received none-- which was answer enough. 

Throwing his head back, he let out a howl of pure agony and let the Diablo take him.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)  
END OF FLASHBACK  
(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

Anastas jerked out of the memory as the taste of bile filled his mouth. He twisted his head to the side and vomited until his stomach was empty. Even though his body felt warm, he felt chilled to the core inside.

\- _It still galls you, does it not? That he was able to make you play the fool to the very end?_ \- A sly voice whispered.

“He was more cunning than I ever gave him credit for.” Anastas agreed bitterly as he cast a few spells to clean up the mess. 

Cool fingers trailed through his hair. - _Voldemort is proof that even in madness there is brilliance. He was a dangerous foe. His counterpart, if he exists in this world, must have taken a different path to power, or you would have seen the signs of his presence already._ \- 

“Perhaps…or maybe my time in Azkaban has weakened me.” 

\- _Do not be foolish! You are as healthy and strong as I can make you. If you feel any less, that is simply because you are out of practice. As long as I have known you, you have despised any perceived weakness on your part._ -

Anastas wiped his forehead of sweat and chuckled mirthlessly. “I came here to come to terms with the past but how the fuck can I just let the past go? Especially that last memory? Victory at that price is no victory at all and it is my fault that such a thing even happened! I have no identity of my own; every thought or action I undertook was solely the product of other people’s desires or outright manipulations!” 

\- _Think of that memory as a festering wound, it is time to cleanse the wound and heal. Never forget what has passed but do not expect what passed to re-occur here. You are an unknown in this world._ \- Fingertips traced idle patterns along his back, causing Anastas to shiver. - _Yes, you were a tool that was used but you are no longer that naïve boy. I have granted you power beyond what these foolish mortals could dream of in their wildest fantasies. The only thing that remains undecided is what you wish to do with that power._ -

“You make everything sound so easy to do but it’s not.” 

\- _I can make it that easy, as you know. If you wish, I can dull the emotional reaction you have to that memory or any others. You need a clear head if you are going to play such a dangerous game. I cannot lose you after all…_ -

Anastas narrowed his eyes. “I suppose that’s a more subtle way of saying that I should yield to you?”

Breathy laughter fanned his ear. - _I wish you would yield to me but all will pass in due time. Power attracts power, sooner or later he will seek you out. Until he does, and until you are able to evaluate him thoroughly, I would suggest that you simply immerse yourself fully into the image you project to the world. There are many facets to Anastas Lund-Torres and though only a few are shown to the world, all of them need to be properly cut and smoothed._ \- 

Anastas got to his feet, “I think I need a good workout.” 

\- _I wish you were less influenced by those foolish mortal tendencies and more like myself. Then you would not need to come to this lavish prison to reflect on your humanity or lack thereof._ -

“If I were anything like you, the world would exist only at my whim.” 

A feather light kiss pressed against his lips, causing him to recoil and almost fall into the pool at his back. - _Exactly! Then I would have all of your attention to myself and no longer have to share you with lower life forms._ -

“I’d sooner kiss a Dementor…” Anastas muttered as he stalked away.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**Palacio d’Asturies, Oviedo, Spain  
Tuesday the 11th of February 1975  
10:17 AM**

 

Anastas nodded to a few courtiers as he made his way to the Private Receiving Room his grandfather favored, wondering curiously what sort of meeting was taking place. He had arrived in Luarca a bare twenty minutes ago before being told that his father was not in residence. Then when he had arrived at the Palacio, a grim faced guard had tersely informed him of his father’s current location. There was a strange tension in the Palacio, one that he had instantly detected when he had arrived. Something was not right and likely whatever was causing it had something to do with however was in Private Receiving Room. 

The door ward glowed a vibrant gold, a clear warning that the meeting taking place was not to be interrupted unless there was an emergency. Frowning at having wasted his time for nothing, Anastas quickly cast a Recording Charm on the gilt mirror across from the warded doors and left his father a message. 

“I’ve returned and will be browsing my ACR proposals and selecting the appropriate trials. Unless you have any objections, I will take residence here at the Palacio until the end of the week and perhaps longer. Please find me at your earliest convenience.” 

Finished, Anastas quickly turned back around and headed upstairs to the adjoining Private Study rooms attached to the main library. The pair of guardsmen let him in without question as he was one of the five people allowed to enter this particular room. 

To prevent any tampering, the room was heavily warded and guarded by Royal Guardsmen. A veritable mountain of scrolls littered every available surface in the room and Anastas groaned softly at the daunting task before him. 

This was the first time that he had actually seen the number of ACR proposals he had received and if he remembered correctly, all the approved or rejected proposals would have been moved to a separate room. Turning to the mirror next to the door, he tapped it with his wand. 

An exhausted image of his father appeared. “As of 9:00PM February 10th, 7,298 ACR proposals have been received. Of those proposals 3,588 have been rejected, 1,626 have been accepted and 2,084 have yet to be read and/or evaluated. 972 of the accepted proposals are from _haute monde_ members, 409 accepted proposals are from non-member Purebloods, 212 accepted proposals are from Halfbloods and the remaining 33 accepted proposals are from Muggleborns.

“All proposals that have yet to be sorted and sent by _haute monde_ members are located to the right side of the room and proposals sent by Pureblood non-members are located on the upraised tables on the left side of the room. Proposals sent by Halfblood and Muggleborn wizards and witches have been placed on the floor on the left hand side of the room. To increase the efficiency of the sorting process, all proposals to be rejected should be sent via the open fireplace while approved proposals are to be placed in the Vanishing Cabinet. Lord Salandra, the Seneschal, was kind enough to offer the services of the Royal Clerks who will send personalized messages to all the approved suitors. Everyone who has access to the proposals has sworn an Unbreakable Vow to keep their silence regarding the entire selection, approval or rejection process.”

Anastas smiled slightly, “They’ve done quite well for themselves. I suppose it’s time that I do my share.” 

Walking over to the right hand side of the room, he paused seeing that it had been further divided. A podium filled with ribbons and notes explained the system of organization.

_Ribbon Code_

_Purple = Royalty_  
Blue = Nobility  
White = Commoners 

_Red = Female  
Green = Male_

_1 stripe = 14-19 years old_  
2 stripes = 20-26 years old  
3 stripes = 27-32 years old  
4 stripes = 33-38 years old 

_Black = Unread  
Yellow = Undecided_

“Seems simple enough,” Anastas muttered, turning to the largest of the piles of scrolls, that belonging to the so-called ‘commoners’. As far as he had been able to tell, all the Royals had already been sorted out leaving only two stacks of Blue and White ribbon wrapped scrolls. Spotting a few Yellow ribbons, Anastas took the topmost scroll and unbound it, nearly dropping the extra scrolls and other contents.

Cursing, he bear-hugged the contents and headed for the only clear desk in the room and dropped his burden on the oak surface. Quickly sorting the papers out into order, he started with the formal Letter of Intention. 

**_Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet._** (3)

Prince Evaristo Torres-

**Si Vales Valeo** (1) 

I, Tancred Mithra Peverell Heir to the Peverell Family of Britain, would formally request the honor of engaging in Anterior Courtship Rituals with your son, Prince Anastas Evaristo Rafael Lund-Torres. Per your requirements, I have only recently celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday and have never been married. It is my wish to further my acquaintance with your son and should we be suited, take him as my husband. 

Unlike the deluge of ACR requests you are likely to receive, I will not waste valuable ink or parchment to boast of my ability to provide for your honored son. Instead, I have enclosed all the appropriate forms. Facts, I have found, are worthier by far than idle boasts. 

Sincerely, 

Tancred Peverell,  
Heir to the Peverell Family  
Scholar of Ancient Rites and Relics

**Sine scientia ars nihil est.** (Without knowledge, skill is nothing. Peverell Motto.)

Anastas frowned thoughtfully, Tancred Peverell…he was sure he had met this person at one of the gatherings but which one? Ah, that was right! This was the one his Uncle Apolinar had introduced him to. He remembered that wizard, he was intelligent and interesting as he recalled. Curiosity piqued, Anastas continued reading the rest of the papers. 

The Letter of Introduction was witty and filled with interesting facts about the older wizard and the enclosed family trees were eye-opening. He had not been aware that the Peverell Family could claim both Ravenclaw and Slytherin ties. The physical and magical assessments were in perfect order as far as he could tell. 

Peverell’s Academic Record contained a primary school graduate degree from the Marcovicci Institute, a secondary degree from the Eastern School of Traditional Arts and Rituals, and a Mastery degree in Rites and Relics signed by seven acclaimed Masters. A careful study of the academic papers showed just how intelligent the other wizard was, having graduated with some of the highest overall scores in over a century and completely shattering the Arithmancy and Ancient Runes scores. No doubt the latter was the reason why Peverell had chosen to pursue Rites and Rituals further. 

Two ten foot scrolls detailed Peverell’s accomplishments as a Scholar of Ancient Rites and Relics, which impressed him so much that Anastas decided that he’d accept the Peverell proposal. He skimmed the remaining scrolls detailing current and inheritable assets, tentative dates and plans for chaperoned outings, a prospective marriage contract, and details regarding a prospective marriage ceremony. 

“A very worthy contact,” Anastas commented as he re-bound all the scrolls and then placed the scroll in the Vanishing Cabinet. “Now, if the rest of these are nearly as interesting…”

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Formal Receiving Room  
Asikis Hall, Rhodope Mountains, Greece  
Saturday the 15th of February 1975  
9:25 AM**

 

Sarpedon Asikis was unhappy. 

When Odysseus had first contacted him regarding the Incident with Anastas Lund-Torres, Sarpedon had been intrigued. The young tiercel had promise by the sounds of things and truthfully, should have been instructed by a Squall Harpy in the first place. He had come away from his first meeting with the Lund-Torres heir feeling pleased; the boy was intelligent and well-mannered. That indicated that he would take to instruction well. 

Later he had regretted thinking so idealistically. The boy had been an utter failure. His control had been poor, his temper far too easily roused, and his focus had been deplorable. Sarpedon had feared that he would lose his own formidable temper should he continue instructing the boy and had, instead, given the young tiercel to his second son Zayle to train. 

That had not gone any better and, towards the end of their training; Zayle had been close to losing his own temper. Which boded ill considering Zayle was the least temperamental Squall of all the Asikis Tempests. 

Then came the day where the tiercel had proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he could literally advance by leaps and bounds. What had triggered his sudden epiphany, Sarpedon and Zayle could only wonder but it had been memorable and far, far too unnerving. 

Zayle had been lucky. He’d survived the initial bouts and while he hadn’t walked away from them on his own two feet, he had not endured any long-lasting damage. That had been a relief and, truthfully, unexpected. Now that the Healers had given Zayle permission to do leave his bed, Sarpedon was now the unfortunate host to a full convening of the Harpy Council. 

Ordinarily such gatherings where held on completely neutral territory due to the fact that having so many Squalls in a limited area was always a bad idea but, as they needed Zayle’s testimony and that of others present, Sarpedon had no choice but to hold the meeting at his Hall. The seasoned Squall could only hope that the wards and his Hall would survive the meeting intact. 

At the moment, he was the only Harpy present. The six other Harpies that staffed the Central Council were not due to arrive for another ten minutes, and the remaining twenty-eight members that formed the Advisory Council would not arrive until ten o’clock. That would give him enough time to give the Central Council members a brief report on the matter and his impressions before the Advisors could cause problems. It would happen, he knew. The majority of the Council had not been pleased to learn that a wizard-born Harpy had emerged and that displeasure had only deepened when they learned that he was a Squall, no less. 

There existed a very tenuous peace between the Harpies and the Wizarding World, and the Lund-Torres heir’s mere existence threatened that peace. 

He was the first wizard-born Squall to emerge and he was descended of such unique Wizarding breeding that it was almost a guarantee that he could not be assimilated into a Harpy Tempest. That fact was the source from which discord would be sown by the advisors. 

Even after Archelaus won their freedom, the danger had never passed. Wizards continued to be intrigued at the raw power and potential the Harpies were capable of unleashing. The only thing that had stopped them from trying to conquer them outright was the fact that of the nearly 60,000 Harpies in existence, around 3,000 of them were Squalls. 

A single Squall could unleash massive amounts of destruction on a regular and repeated basis without tiring, as Archelaus had proven. Even a small group of Halcyons working together could cause a single, large disruption in a slightly smaller area. That disruption, however, would occur on a large enough scale to buy the Halcyons enough time to retreat until a proper Squall could arrive and eliminate any remaining threats. Only a few small skirmishes in the first century of their freedom had tested the Harpies but once that defense had proven impregnable, that had stayed the hand of even the most ambitious Dark Wizard. 

Now the Council was gathering to evaluate just how much of a threat the Lund-Torres heir was to the Harpy way of life. 

Sarpedon knew, as he had been present, that the boy could either be the salvation of their way of life or the destroyer of it. For a young tiercel, Anastas was powerful and possessed numerous and rare therapontes. Even if a more experienced Squall challenged him it was impossible to say who would survive such an encounter. That boded well, in the sense that Anastas could repel unscrupulous wizards at his own leisure but, if his own nature ever led him down a darker path, it would be the undoing of their species. Yet the possibility existed that if they dared to act outright against the tiercel, such an action could incite the rest of the Wizarding World and lead to a war that neither would walk away from without significant losses. 

Sarpedon had had weeks to brood about what they could do and so far, he had not found a single ideal solution to this particular quandary. In the end, their best option was to simply wait and see what would happen. Any actions taken before the situation truly deteriorated would either enflame the situation or cause it to explode, forcing them down a single path. He was fairly certain that the Central Council would agree with him on the matter but the members of the Advisory Council were likely to cause some sort of problem in the name of ‘observation’. 

That meant that all the Central Council would have to be extremely vigilant. The Wizards would not take too kindly to their spying on their affairs and they could not risk alienating the tiercel outright. It was better that he remain indifferent to the Harpies as a whole than to despise them whole-heartedly.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Entrance Hall  
Glitnir Hall, Sweden  
Tuesday the 18th of February 1975  
6:30 PM**

 

Anastas idly straightened the gold sheet of silk wrapped around his torso. His fourteen guests were due to arrive in less than ten minutes but as he had guessed, none of them had refused his invitation. 

The renovations had been halted for the evening but a few hours of halted work would not cause a delay fortunately. Anastas had made his plans known to only his father, who had agreed it was best to keep the meeting secret for the time being. 

Looking around the room, he was pleased to note that the extensive renovations on this floor were complete. Glitnir Hall truly shone brightly, both inside and out. He’d used a series of complex Potions, combined with Transfiguration Charms to alter the very stones of the Hall from the plain, white and silver veined marble to the glowing iridescent Whimsy Stone that his parasite had taught him to re-create. Said stone was bright and glowed with a rainbow-like iridescence that was both captivating and extremely practical. The artificially created stone was highly resistant to all forms of magic and stronger than diamond, which made it nigh indestructible. 

Of course the fact that only he knew how to create Whimsy Stone would likely gain him even greater prestige and wealth in this world. After his Granduncle had seen and tested the imperviousness of the stone firsthand, he had agreed to oversee the alteration of the Palacio which would begin sometime in the forthcoming spring. 

The gentle murmur of water and birdsong mixed with the exotic perfume of flowers drifted from the large lounging garden he’d added to the main floor. He had decided to install it to provide a relaxing atmosphere and to intrigue his guests with the maze-like garden. It was lavishly furnished with plush furniture and private nooks all with built in Privacy or Sound Dampening Charms, which could be activated at the users’ discretion. 

Tonight, would be the first trial to see how well his alterations were received and Anastas looked forward to it. Truthfully his paranoia and desire for comfort had lead to the renovation. If such an excessive display of architectural advancement also happened to impress others than it was all worthwhile effort, in his opinion. 

:: They have come. :: 

Anastas swiftly strode towards the nearby garden entrance, wanting to make an impressive arrival as well as see their expressions. Excited voices filled the hall as his guests entered and took in the beautiful decorations and the lush garden. 

At the lead of the group was Chanan Najafian, a tall Arab man dressed in purple robes. Next to him was his son Rimmon Najafian, a talented Cursebreaker whose ACR proposal had already been approved. The graying blond behind them was Aodh Cargenven who walked with his dark haired husband Niall and their oldest son Eoghan. Li Jie strode gracefully between his two sons Li Wu and Li Naosuke. A dark blonde woman in sapphire robes was Teresa Moreno and the brunet next to her was her son and heir, Benito. The Liatos brothers, Hesiod and Solon, had dark, curly brown hair and were dressed in their Family’s aqua and black. Bringing up the rear of the dinner party were the two dark haired Lafayette men, Etienne and Sylvester. 

“Good evening, I am pleased that you were able to find the time to meet with me. Please be welcome in Glitnir Hall.” Anastas greeted as he emerged from the garden.

His guests startled a little at his abrupt, and soundless, appearance.

Chanan Najafian recovered first. “Good evening, the honor is ours I assure you Prince Anastas. You have a truly beautiful home.” 

“Thank you, I am happy to see that the alterations are pleasing to the eye.” 

“I’ve never seen anything quite so magnificent,” Hesiod Liatos exclaimed animated. 

Anastas grinned slowly, “The Whimsy Stone is quite eye catching, wouldn’t you agree? It took to Glitnir like a Ramora to a ship.” 

“Whimsy Stone? I’ve never heard of it.” Aodh Cargenven commented. 

“I would be surprised if you had. Until a few months ago, it didn’t exist.” 

His guests, well mannered as they were, gaped. 

Anastas chuckled, “I created it with a combination of Potions and Transfiguration Charms. All in all, it was a very complex and time consuming alteration but well worth the time and effort.” 

“Indeed,” Li Jie agreed, dark eyes thoughtful. 

“There is just enough time to give you a brief tour of the first floor before dinner is served, if you’ll follow me?” Anastas asked as his guests fell into step behind him. 

The tour was short, allowing his guests brief glimpses into the Receiving Rooms, the Lounges, the Coat Room and the Dining Rooms. Several expressed a desire to see the garden but Anastas told them that they would see it after dinner. He had the House Elves prepare dinner in the Formal Dining Room, which could seat a ridiculous number of guests but tonight, only had a single long table set. The south and western walls were entirely covered with large paneled windows, allowing guests to see the spectacular view of the large waterfall several miles behind Glitnir Hall. 

After guests had been served drinks and the first course served, conversation was once again struck up. 

“I was very surprised to get your letter; your father had told me several weeks ago that you were undergoing training by Elder Asikis.” Hesiod Liatos commented before savoring the Ambrosius bottled white wine. 

Anastas selected several pieces of exotic fruits from around the world before answering, “I finished my training at the beginning of this month to the satisfaction of Elder Asikis.” 

Teresa Moreno, the only witch present, questioned. “And what will you do now? Return to Hogwarts?” 

“I’ve decided not to return this year. There are far too many things that I must learn that either is not taught at Hogwarts or that can only be instructed by a select few. My father agreed that it was best if I continue my education with private tutors for the time being, so that I might carry out other obligations. At least for this year, I’ve not yet decided what I shall do next year.” 

Li Jie nodded, “I admit I wondered why you chose Hogwarts. Not to say that it is not a good school but a person of your station might do better at one of the premier schools like the Trowynt Academy for example.” 

“I considered several schools but settled with Hogwarts due to my previous background. Having been Muggle-raised the majority of my life, I thought attending Hogwarts might be the best place to transition into proper Wizarding society. The adjustment was not difficult but, I admit, the classes have not proven much of a challenge yet.” Anastas glanced over at Sylvester Lafayette and Benito Moreno, who sat next to each other across the table and several chairs down from him. “As I recall, you both attended the Trowynt Academy for Natural Studies, how would you say the school ranked overall?” 

The two exchanged quick looks to see who would speak first and surprisingly, Sylvester gestured for Benito to answer first. 

“Well as the name of the school implies, it largely focuses on Natural studies which largely is Potions, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Healing. It was a good, specialized school.” 

“I agree and would add that the professors are some of the best in the world.” Sylvester added. 

Anastas ate a piece of kiwi. “My cousin Prince Guiomar will be attending next year but I do not think the school would suit me personally. I find none of the subjects difficult or particularly interesting.”

Rimmon Najafian cleared his throat. “Have you considered the Marcovicci Institute or the Eastern School of Traditional Arts and Rituals?”

“The high standards and variety of classes would suit me at either school but there are, of course, security concerns. Perhaps after the Lund Guard is fully assembled and properly assessed by my Granduncle, the Warlord-Prince, I may be allowed to pursue information about the schools further.” Anastas replied as the first course of fruits and nuts was cleared from the table and replaced with the second course consisting of a variety of breads and salads. 

About six minutes later, after everyone was served, Anastas initiated conversation. 

“I expect that by next week, father and I will begin accepting invitations to gatherings since all the ACR proposals have been properly sorted and only need to be reviewed. Of course, with father’s busy schedule, it is likely we will only have enough time to accept three or four invitations a week.” 

Teresa raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? Do you have a preference yet?” 

“I admit I am not overly fond of dinners or dances, the latter because dancing is too restrictive and the former can be repetitive. I would rather see some Dueling exhibitions or live musical or theatrical performances.” 

Li Jie smiled, “There will be a Martial Arts Exhibition in Beijing in two weeks. I’m sure my son Cheng would be more than happy to escort you.” 

“My nephews Sophus and Tycho are debuting their Spring collection in Milan next weekend and my granddaughter will be playing with the Athens Symphony for the next month.” Hesiod added. 

“Vittore said something about an Intercontinental Dueling Event taking place in Rome next month.” Eoghan Cargenven reported. 

Chanan sipped his wine. “My daughter Shirin will be dancing in Nineveh with her troop three weeks from Friday.” 

Anastas smiled politely and quickly cut the guests off before more invitations could be extended. “I do not know if having an escort would be acceptable yet but feel free to send invitations anyway. Father will not have any objections if I decide to do some socializing.” 

“Speaking of your father, why isn’t he present?” Aodh asked curiously. 

“The nature of this gathering is private and he agreed that the less that was known about it, the better. As this gathering is purely business orientated, no one objected to my hosting it here at my main residence. Glitnir is impregnable and even without it being staffed by my Guard, I am more than capable of defending myself.” Anastas answered wryly. 

Conversation switched to discussions about Glitnir Hall, the Lund-Torres assets, subtle inquires about the ACR trials, and his opinion on current events. Five courses later and Anastas led his guests to the garden. They were impressed with the variety of Ever-Blooming plants and the relaxing atmosphere. 

Anastas stretched his wings, feathers brushing against flowering trees. “Now we have arrived to the main purpose behind this gathering. As you have no doubt already heard, I have been tasked with slaying the Cuélebre this Midsummer. Asturian tradition strictly dictates that my magic will be Bound leaving me with simple brute force to subdue and slay the creature. I have gathered you this evening because I desire to purchase several items with which I would like to commission Master Solon and the Cargenvens to fabricate a weapon.” 

The guests looked at each other, intrigued. The Moreno Family specialized in magical flora, the Li in magical creature goods, the Najafian in Re’em goods, the Lafayette in wand woods, the Liatos in artistic crafts, and the Cargenven in crystals, mining, and the crafting of weapons or armor. What sort of weapon would require items from all these Families?

“What precisely do you require?” Teresa asked. 

“From the Lafayette’s, I need two trunks of the oldest Yew. I’ll need ten pounds of spun Demiguise hair, twenty pounds of spun Acromantula silk, and five pounds each of eggshells from Hungarian Horntails and Peruvian Vipertooths from the Li Family. From the Najafian’s I require one hundred and twenty gallons of fresh Re’em blood from bulls in their prime.” Anastas handed Teresa a list. “This is a list of what I’ll require from your Family. As for the others, I wish to commission Master Aodh to create the weapon and Master Niall to carve the runes for it. Master Solon will do some specialized gem cutting for me. Should you all accept my proposition that is.” 

“When do you need the items?” Chanan asked knowing that no more details would be coming.

“The sooner I receive the items the better. This is no ordinary weapon I’m commissioning, as you can no doubt already guess, and because of that I need the absolute best. I’m willing to pay extremely well for these items and your silence regarding my purchases and this gathering.”

Li Naosuke glanced at his father and then spoke. “You’ll have your items by Friday at the latest. Where would you like the items delivered?” 

“Give me a time and I’ll pick it up personally from your main residence or an office if you prefer.” 

“Agreed,” 

Etienne Lafayette, who had not spoken much at all, glanced at him shrewdly. “You are aware that a single trunk alone is worth 1,000 Galleons? For two aged Yew trunks you could be paying up to 10,000 Galleons.” 

“And it would be worth every Galleon.” Anastas countered. 

“We’ll owl you by Thursday.”

The Moreno Matriarch studied the list of plants and the amount needed. “I can have this for you by Thursday afternoon.” 

Chanan Najafian only shook his head bemused. “If you have 60,000 Galleons, I can retrieve the Re’em blood tonight.” 

Anastas nodded and turned to the three Cargenvens and the two Liatos brothers. 

“What say you, gentlemen?” 

“Never let it be said that we Cargenven turn down a challenge! I have a feeling that this may be one of the greatest weapons I might craft with these hands.” Aodh answered with a slow smirk while Niall only nodded his agreement. 

Solon just grinned. “I look forward to it!” 

“Excellent. Let us sign the appropriate Non-disclosure papers and business contracts and properly finish our business dealing tonight.” Anastas asked as he snapped his fingers. 

Two House-Elves appeared, one holding a tray filled with colored Moke-skin bags each labeled clearly with different denominations and the other with a tray filled with the usual contract scrolls.

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Anastas watched as his guests walked down the drive and vanished when their Portkeys re-activated. All his plans were going well for the time being.

By his estimation, his commissioned weapon would be ready to be crafted sometime in early May and all the necessary accessories delivered well before Midsummer in June. Processing the remaining ACR proposals would be finished in another week at most. Checking the validity of those interested in joining the Lund Guard was as time-consuming as he had thought it would be but, fortunately, his Granduncle Silvio had been more than willing to grant him the use of a few workers from his Intelligence bureau. 

As for the on-going task he had given his own personal demon, each of the operatives delivered reports as regularly as two or three times per week. Now he had more reading to complete than he did free time, not to mention keeping up with his other studies. It was his hope to start attending social gatherings soon so that he could begin cultivating more contacts by the end of the month as well, so he would lose even more of his free time. 

For the time being, he was content to simply gather information and flesh out his identity. Making a decision would come when the time was right, after he was positive of what everyone’s motives were. It had taken him far too long and far too many arguments with his parasite, to come to that particular decision.

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FLASHBACK  
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Anastas watched the water of the pool ripple as he brooded. While he did not want to be someone else’s tool ever again, he was certain that he could never simply stand by while the rest of the world was plunged into war. His good intentions had led him astray in the past, so this time he determined that he would try to take actions that could only benefit the Wizarding World as a whole later.

\- _It is idealistic foolishness like that which will draw master manipulators to turn you into a marionette! Have you learned nothing from your mistakes in the past?_ -

“I would rather keep the civilian death count to a minimum this time.” 

\- _You would rather spend a lifetime atoning for doing what was necessary, even in a world where the past has no impact. That is what you mean. Idiot! It is impossible to save everyone._ -

“Weren’t you the one that said I had the power beyond mortal fantasy and could use it however I wished?” Anastas retorted. 

A hand grabbed his throat. - _Do not throw my words back at me! What I have given you I can take back and then, what will you do to save your precious world? You are nothing but another above average wizard without my influence! As you will recall, none of your morals prevented you from becoming Voldemort’s successor. Your worthless morals were the root of your downfall; you shattered into more pieces than a broken mirror when the War ended. You may resent them for throwing you into Azkaban but in your heart you know it was nothing more than you deserved! Once again your mortal foolishness never ceases to disgust me._ -

“And what would I be without my ‘mortal foolishness’?” Anastas demanded, irritated at the constant attacks on his humanity. 

\- _For one thing, without that idiocy clouding your mind, you would actually stand a chance of surviving this forthcoming War relatively unscathed instead of a candidate for the Tartarus Pit or the Insane Asylum. From your own mouth, you admitted that almost everything that you thought was mere propaganda from people who would use you! If your sense of morality is that skewed, and it is I assure you, then it stands to reason that you can only benefit from shedding such worthless ideas and leave them for other idealistic mortals. After all that you have seen, after all that you have done, you would still cleave to such ideals? Continue thinking like that and you will fall under Dumbledore or Voldemort’s dominion again._ \- 

“Then what should I do?! If I can’t even trust myself how will I know what action to take?” 

Cold hands cupped his face, - _Follow your instinct! Humans, in their arrogance, seem to think that their ability to reason and empathize will lead them to have a long, fulfilling life. It is laughable! You only survived long enough to become capable of such reasoning due to the natural instincts that guided your lowly ancestors for thousands of years. Your instincts will never lead you wrong, or you humans would never have lasted this long._ -

Anastas looked thoughtful. “Instinct…” 

\- _The most useful of all instincts is very simple…survival. You wish to kill your enemy so that your children, if not future generations, may survive. There is no wrong in defending your territory and in protecting your family or those you view as under your protection. It is that simple._ -

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END FLASHBACK  
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Removing Voldemort had been important and necessary in the past world, but in the process he had completely devastated the rest of the Wizarding World and even the Muggle World. Too many had died in the crossfire and he would prefer to avoid that as much as possible this time around…assuming that he chose to oppose Voldemort.

There was not enough information as of yet gathered for him to really make a decision that wasn’t based on the past and, to his consternation, Tom Riddle had vanished into the annuls of time. Anastas was certain that he was alive **somewhere** , that much he could tell in his very bones, but where he was or what he was doing was a mystery that he desperately wanted answers to.

Altogether, it was both a frustrating and tedious time for him. He was never the sort to take sitting still well and even with all these other events and responsibilities requiring his attention, little of it truly captured his interest. Anastas had been molded for war and all the bloody battles, underhanded tactics, and the utter havoc that came in their wake. In a sense, peace chafed him. It left him with too much time to thing about the present and the future, without giving him a clear goal to work towards. 

No matter how much he wished otherwise if not for the presence of his ever so helpful, and completely untrustworthy demon, it was likely Anastas could not have distanced himself from his past and bided his time to wait. Logically he knew much of the horrors that had inadvertently committed were the best options available to him. Just as he knew it was better to wait and to gather information before making a decision and taking action. However a part of him could not help feeling guilty just as he could not help but want to rush blindly into action and damn the consequences. War had changed him, he knew that very well, but this eagerness to act was both alien and a little troubling. 

His companion assured him that he was just a little more in tune with his baser side and not to concern himself too much. It was not a reassuring comment. Anastas never wanted to be the Diablo and when he pointed that out to his ever so haughty companion, it had told him simply that if he did not want to be the Diablo he had best find a mutual common ground. The wizard decided then and there, that he never wanted to hear another long-winded lecture courtesy of his parasite. 

According to the superior being, the Diablo was nothing more than his basic instincts thrown together with a dash of reasoning and a complete lack of morals. The Diablo was nothing more than an alter ego, one that he had created to do all the things that he could not, in good conscience, do. Accepting the Diablo as a part of him would not only help him accept his past and its plethora of demons and nightmares, but it would also help him decide what action to take. 

It took two and a half months to realign himself and the parasite had been correct…again. He did feel better and though he was frustrated and eager to take action it was not too hard to wait. When his frustration reached its peak, he threw himself into training and practicing, using the physical activity to keep the darker aspect of him in check. 

Anastas turned away from the windows overlooking the long driveway and in doing so, stopped contemplating past events. It was time to think of the future now. 

In less than two months he would be fully absorbed into the massive chess game that was the Wizarding World’s elite. Entrance in that realm would require all his attention as he planned to thrive there. Four attempts had been made to either kidnap or kill him outright and more recently; someone in Asturias wanted him removed from power in an unquestionable way.

With Queen Erika’s blessing, within a year’s time he would have fully taken up the powers available to him in Sweden and after he killed the Cuélebre, his place in Asturias would be cemented as well. Already, he had the service of a dozen secret operatives and would have the legitimate service of 3,000 Guardsmen before April. 

Five people in this world knew his true goals and four of them had thrown their full support behind him. Thousands of influential wizards and witches were eager to capture his attention and advance their Family by way of marriage, trade, or friendship. Most importantly he had the only known item that might stand in his way, secreted away where no one would ever access it. 

Anastas may not have made his decision yet, but he had done the best to gain enough intelligence to navigate this strange world and to fortify his skills and his assets. It would be more than enough, he knew. 

He had chased after Pandora’s Box and after it had been opened inflicted all the mythical evils to his old world, most committed with his own hands. Wallowing in his guilt, as Voldemort had put it, had not done him any favors aside from amusing the former Dark Lord in the afterlife. Ignoring the issue altogether had done nothing either, as his parasite had pointed out. Owning up to his mistakes and accepting the fact that he had been nothing but a tool to two powerful wizards had done one decent thing for him. It finally allowed him to let go of the past. 

He had fucked up, he would be the first to admit that, but really when one looked at the situation, he was not all to blame. 

Harry Potter had hated the invincible and infallible Harry Potter of people’s expectations but he strove to be what they wanted anyway. Dumbledore had groomed him to destroy Voldemort. In turn Voldemort had used him to destroy a world that he could never conquer, or possibly never wanted to conquer, along with dying with the knowledge that he had royally one-upped everyone. He had been nothing but clay to be molded and that is exactly what they did with him. 

In opening Pandora’s Box, he had given himself a key. One that had unlocked the sleeping potential that lay dormant in his body. Sure, a possessive touchy-feely parasite came along with that key but, in the end, what did he have to lose but the Harry Potter that he had never wanted to be? 

Harry Potter had paved a road to Hell with his good intentions and Anastas had every intention of seeing everything that Hell had to offer.

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Notes:

1) Si Vales Valeo- Latin phrase meaning “If you are well, I am well” and was commonly used at the beginning of Ancient Roman letters. 

2) 40,000 G= 400,000 US dollars, 70,000 G= 700,000 US dollars, 125,000 G= 1.25 million US dollars, 180,000 G= 1.8 million US dollars

And because I didn’t want to put a note marker here’s the breakdown for the guard pay:  
100 G = 1,000 US dollars, 20 G= 200 US dollars, 10,000 G= 100,000 US dollars, 2,500G= 25,000 US dollars

3) Cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet - Latin phrase meaning “May he love tomorrow who has never loved before; And may he who has loved, love tomorrow as well.” It’s used here as the standard opening statement for a Letter of Intention for an ACR proposal. 

**Quick Note** : I am looking for a permanent Beta for this story. Specifically, I’d like someone who’s good with grammar, has free time now and again, has MS word and knows how to use the tracking changes feature, and is legal for reading smut and is ok with editing smut. Cause I’ll get to that eventually. I’d love it if they had Y!M too but if I need to I guess we’ll just exchange a lot of e-mails back and forth. If anyone’s interested please send me a **private e-mail** , link and/or address is on my bio. 

**Next Chapter:** Lots more character interaction! Probably a time jump, more flashbacks, and more scenes with Lucius and Sev. 

Please, please, please review! I really need feedback at this particular stage because so much is going on and I’d like a clue what you all think of it! Feedback seriously helps me write and improve if I know what’s working and what’s not. 

-SheWolfe7 (7-5-08)


	9. Chapter VIII: Enterprise

  
Author's notes: Scandals, introductions and large gatherings.  


* * *

A/N: Here it is at last. So not Beta’d and only slightly glanced over. I’m not totally happy with some of the transitions but this is as close to a final draft as I have time for these days so I’ve deemed it somewhat post-worthy. 

Text Formatting:   
‘Character thoughts’  
 **Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info**  
 _Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_  
\- _Parseltongue_ -  
:: Telepathy ::

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**Good Intentions  
By: SheWolfe7**

**Chapter VIII: Enterprise**

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_23 February 1975_

_Dear Lucius,_

_How are classes going? I am well, if extremely worn out. There are far too many things to do and not enough hours in the day. Mind you, Grandfather offered to loan me a Time Turner but it is not worth using, simply due to the fact that I would end up far older in body than in physical time. As such aging is worthless on a legal standpoint, using a Time Turner would be a pointless endeavor._

_Most of my days comprise of making arrangements for my Guard. There are contracts to be negotiated with the appropriate suppliers, deliveries to be overseen, inventory to be stocked and accounted for, etc. It is a never ending task! And all of it must be done before the Guard Trials take place which leaves me less than a month to complete all these tasks._

_Father and I are receiving quite the number of invitations to less formal gatherings. I have refused all invitations to dinners and teas, simply because I would prefer not to have to mingle and exchange pointless chit-chat. There were a few interesting invitations to see professional Dueling competitions which I accepted, along with a few theatre productions and gallery openings._

_All the Anterior Courtship Ritual proposals have been received and the majority have been reviewed. It’s likely that the acceptance notices will be sent out early, though that largely depends on selecting the final Courtship Trial. They will be very difficult but that’s mostly to weed out the competition to a more manageable number._

_On another note, Father has agreed to allow me a brief visit during the next Hogsmeade Visit. I think the next date was the twenty-ninth of next month, correct? Let me know a time and place and I’ll meet you and Severus for a few hours at the least._

_I hope to see you soon,_

_Anastas Evaristo Rafael Lund-Torres  
Prince of Asturias, Heir to the Lund Family of Sweden and Scion of the Focalor Family of France_

**Memores acti prudentes future. (Mindful of what has been done, aware of what will be. Torres Motto.)  
Aut concilio aut ense. (Either by meeting or by the sword. Lund Motto)  
Varium et mutabile simper femina. (Woman is always a changeable and capricious thing. Focalor Motto)**

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**The Private Dining Room  
Palacio d’Asturies, Oviedo, Asturias  
Sunday the 23rd of February 1975  
7:12 AM**

 

****

Treasonous Love Affair Revealed!  
By: Anonymous

_Recent tensions in the Palacio d’Asturies have caused no little amount of curiosity by the public. The Torres Family has been under an enormous amount of pressure after recent attacks against the Family, preparations for the marriages of two of its daughters, what promises to be a Courting Season like no other, and the great Cuelebre slaying due to take place this Midsummer. As no official news has been released regarding any of these matters, one intrepid reporter for this paper decided to investigate the matter further._

_After several conversations off the record with several contacts within the Court, this reporter has learned that Prince Cyril Torres, son of Warlord-Prince Silvio Torres and Warlord Presumptive, has been engaging in a treasonous love affair with his cousin Princess Ramona Torres-Schoesser. What is truly scandalous about this love affair is that not only is it forbidden by Royal Decree, as the two are of the Primary and Secondary bloodlines respectively, it also violates the Marriage Contract between Prince Cyril and his wife, Lady Magda, and there are rumors that Princess Ramona may be pregnant!_

_There is little doubt why no official news has been released by the Royals as the situation is tenuous at best. What fate awaits these forbidden lovers? The Executioner’s block, most likely, according to historical records of previous violations…con’t p.2_   


Anastas had not gotten more than a small glimpse of the front page of the Spanish Navigator before it had been quickly snatched away by his Uncle Apolinar who had scowled fiercely before incinerating it.

For over a week, the three had been closeted away dealing with some as-of-then undisclosed issue. Of course thanks to one nosy reporter at the _Spanish Navigator_ , who very quickly would be out of a job and knutless, that ‘issue’ had been revealed to the public. 

Idly, Anastas considered that this ‘revelation’ could not have come at a worse time. Within a decade’s time, Cyril was to have taken over the position of Warlord from his father and this treasonous offense nullified his eligibility. That post would now be fought over by the most competent Generals whose loyalties may be questionable. That in turn, led to the possibility that a marriage between the new Warlord Presumptive and a member of the Torres Family may be required and that would cause no end of trouble. 

The only members of appropriate age and rank, who were not already engaged, were Apolinar’s sons, Alfonso and Guiomar (though Alfonso, as a future Sovereign Prince would not even be proposed as a possible spouse and Guiomar was far too young), Cyril’s three sons Fausto, Agustin, and Guiomar (all of whom would likely be rejected due to the recent scandal), Prince Vasco’s two daughters Angelica and Lucia (acceptable choices as they were seventeen and twelve respectively) and himself (who also would not be presented as a possible spouse). 

All in all, the situation did not look good and solutions were slim at best. Not that it bothered him overly. He had plenty of holdings outside of Asturias and he was not squeamish about killing someone, General or not, should they prove to be an annoyance to his plans.

“What has the investigation revealed so far?” Anastas asked breaking the silence. 

The three men glanced at each other and Apolinar sighed slightly before answering. 

“They are irrefutably guilty; Ramona is nearly two months pregnant. Both had been taking measures to prevent such an occurrence so this pregnancy was not by their doing. Our guess is that Lady Magda discovered the affair and chose to ‘reveal’ it in such a way that the violation of the Marriage Contract would undoubtedly favor her.”

Estavan smiled coldly, “Unfortunately she will find that even though the Marriage Contract was violated an act of treason committed by a Torres against a Torres automatically strips said violator of all their possessions, which are then remitted back to the Sovereign Prince to be dispensed. In this case, as she has brought about the deaths of two members of our Family, she will get not so much as a knut.”

“They are to be executed then?” Alfonso asked quietly, looking troubled. 

Evaristo frowned, “We have no other recourse. They have committed treason, that treason can be proven, and we cannot show them any mercy, lest it inspire others to think us weak.” 

“When will the act be done?” 

“After our investigations are completed, I would say no more than two months at the most, within a week at the least.” 

Isabella set aside her utensils, “And Lady Magda?” 

“Exile, possibly execution if her involvement can be proven.” Apolinar answered eyes dark. 

“Where are you keeping Cyril and Ramona, in the meantime?” Tiziana asked sadly.

“At the Royal Prison, in the East tower.” 

Anastas wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his chair out from under the table. “I do believe I’ll pay them a visit, after I have a few words with our long-term ‘guests’.” 

Evaristo shot him a look filled with warning. “Remember to join us for lunch; afterwards we have other matters to discuss.”

“Of course, I won’t forget.” Anastas answered grimly before leaving the room.

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**The Study  
21 Mulberry Court, Camden, London, UK  
Wednesday the 26th of February 1975  
2:47 PM**

Ghislain tidied the stack of papers and set it aside. Reaching for a sheet of blank parchment, he pondered what exactly to write in his letter. Never in his life had he ever thought he would need to write a Letter of Introduction that had nothing to do with marriage. Yet, that is exactly the situation he now found himself in, thanks to his treacherous mother. The quill in his hand snapped and Ghislain cursed as ink dribbled down his hand and onto the piece of parchment. Annoyed, he cast the quill and ink blotted paper into the waste bin and stomped over to the liquor cabinet across the room, intent on some badly needed scotch. 

Two glasses later and he had mellowed down. Reaching for new parchment and a quill, he pondered what exactly to write. It wasn’t as though he could write out his exact reasoning, as the Malediction effectively sealed his ability to communicate his circumstances with anyone other than the Caster. To everyone but his mother, Asce Proulx had never existed and so it would remain until she died and even then only if he managed to survive the reversion. 

Ghislain greatly looked forward to that day because he had every intention of being the cause behind its occurrence. For all that he had endured and lost, he would not be satisfied with her death alone. He would destroy the Cohendets and his own brother before he was satisfied. And while he was infinitely patient as all true Proulx, the quickest and possibly smoothest path to his rightful vengeance lay with the young Asturian Prince, Anastas Lund-Torres. 

While a variety of information had circulated among the public, about or concerning said Prince, very little of that information had been verified by a reputable source, and absolutely none of the verification came from the Prince in question. That alone had caused the general curiosity of the public to increase two fold especially as it became apparent that the young Prince was not the average Pureblood wizard. Many investigations were conducted, all very carefully so as not to incite the Torres Family, but little of it turned out anything other than the barest facts. 

Few of their ilk would be interested in how the young prince spent his formative years in the Muggle world and Ghislain knew that it was they who were the idiots for thinking thus. A Phoenix, after all, dies and is reborn. It does not become any more or less during said process and Ghislain knew that a mindset may alter over the years but its foundation it was built upon was rarely rebuilt. The Lund-Torres heir would have seen a great deal of the Muggle World and would, over time, compare it to the world he was now immersed in and would see the advantages and disadvantages of both. What he would do with them, no one could be certain but Ghislain knew that the odds of him doing nothing were very small. 

If he was accepted into the Lund Guard, he would essentially give up thirty years of his life and much of his free will but he knew that it would be one of the best arrangements that he could make. Influence and power came to many by virtue of birth or circumstance and in this; the Lund-Torres heir was no different. So what made him different? He was an outsider, one who truly fit in neither world and would spend his life either strafing the borders of those worlds or he would create a place of his own that had the best of both worlds. 

The future was uncertain but his revenge? Oh…that was a guarantee.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Royal Training Hall  
Palacio d’Asturies, Oveido, Asturias  
Saturday the 1st of March 1975  
6:22 AM**

Anastas caught the towel thrown to him by one of his father’s Guardsmen. After he wiped the sweat from his face and neck, he tossed the towel back to the Guard. 

“What time is it?” 

“6:22, my lord.” 

Anastas frowned slightly, “They should be here by now. I wonder what’s keeping them?” 

“Not all of us are awake at such unholy hours every morning, Anastas.” Fausto yawned as he entered the large room Anastas had long since claimed as his own. 

Agustin and Cleto walked alongside their brother and to his right, while Alfonso and Guiomar walked alongside Fausto’s left. Anastas’ Aunts Eloisa and Elvira walked ahead of Yvette, Silvio’s youngest granddaughter, with Angelica and Lucia, the daughters of Prince Vasco.

Anastas shook his head. “It’s almost six thirty and that’s hardly an unreasonable hour. Now…if I had woken you up when I got up this morning at four, then you might have room to complain.” 

Yvette made a face of distaste. “You’ve been here since four?” 

“More or less,” Anastas answered smoothly. 

Alfonso gazed at him soberly. “You have more reason to be concerned about your training though.” 

“Even if I was not slated to kill the Cuélebre, I would still be training. People of our position cannot rely entirely upon others to rescue us in our moments of need. The Guardsmen serve us loyally but they are not immortal.” 

Elvira chuckled, “Let’s get started before you get carried away and lecture us the rest of the morning.” 

Anastas rolled his eyes. “Well what are you waiting for then? Start your stretches and then I want you all to run ten laps. After that, we’ll start with acrobatics and tumbling.” 

The others groaned melodramatically as they set off on the work he had assigned them. 

Even though it had been a few weeks, Anastas was still amused at how he had ended up training his Aunts and cousins. He’d been training every morning since he had arrived in this world and had made no secret about it. In the beginning, his Granduncle Silvio had wanted to place him under the instruction of one of his subordinates but Anastas had proven too skilled and his methods, somewhat unorthodox. After a few weeks, the Royal Guardsmen had taken to watching him train and some had even started to pick up his habits. 

Since his return from Asikis Hall, he had been asked to instruct his Aunts and cousins to help them learn something different from the conventional Dueling and self defense training they had received. Anastas had taken the request in stride and put them in their paces. In his mind, Western Dueling had placed too much emphasis on spellcraft and weaponry. He favored the Eastern style of Dueling which relied on the body as much as spellcraft and weaponry. 

Anastas regularly practiced acrobatics, tumbling, and hand-to-hand fighting four days of the week, he practiced weaponry and spellcraft three days a week, and fine-tuned his Harpy training two days a week. Except for his Harpy training, he did all of his training here at the Royal Training Hall, which had been constructed to withstand varying levels of physical and magical damage. Until the Training Halls at Glitnir were completed, these would suffice for the time being. 

“Anastas, we’re done!” Cleto shouted, catching his wandering attention. 

Mentally shaking himself, Anastas turned to face his students. “Let’s run through everything that you already know and then we’ll have a spar. We’ll start youngest to oldest, Lucia you go first.” 

The dark haired twelve year-old stepped forward and ran through cartwheels, somersaults, handstands, handsprings, and several different tumbles. Cleto went next, followed by Agustin and Yvette. Angelica, Fausto, and Alfonso performed a few extra flips and tumbles, while his twin Aunts added a few graceful ballet techniques, to everyone’s amusement. 

It was nearly seven thirty when they finished so Anastas was quick to divide them into two teams.

“You’ve been practicing against each other for the last three weekends but now you need to incorporate what you’ve learned into a real situation. These exercises have been to enhance your speed, flexibility, and maneuverability. Now it’s time to test how well you’ve learned what I taught you. I’m going to attack you and you’ve got to defend against my attacks as best as you can. I won’t hold back on my blows and you shouldn’t either because a real enemy fully intends to incapacitate if not kill you outright. Now we’ll start this in groups and then individually. I’ll give you five minutes to talk with your teammates and then we’ll start. Remember, don’t hold back!” 

Anastas left them to their plans, taking a chance to drink some water and neaten his hair which was coming loose from the simple ponytail he had tied it back. When their five minutes was up, Anastas didn’t bother to give them any warnings. He shot out at the first group which consisted of Eloisa, Cleto, Angelica, Alfonso, and Yvette. Angelica dodged his kick and grabbed his right arm, attempting to throw him but he simply kept hold of her and pulled her with him. They hit the ground with a thump and he quickly rolled off of her and kicked Alfonso in his stomach. When the older teen instinctively curled forward, Anastas struck him on the back with a powerful blow, sending him down to the ground. 

A quick forward handspring got him away from Eloisa’s attempt to kick his feet out from under him and instead, she knocked Cleto over who was attempting to help their two downed teammates. By that time, Anastas was engaging blows with Yvette who was the only one among the group who’d had any other training outside of Dueling and self-defense. While the sixteen year old was no match for him in skill, she at least put up a decent fight. Spotting an opening in his stance, she struck him in the leg, causing him to drop down to his knee. Anastas rolled to the side and lunged forward rolling back onto his feet neatly. He pretended to favor his left side and allowed Yvette to close in on him before lashing out with his arm, close-lining the girl who dropped to the ground wheezing. 

Anastas straightened, knowing the others were beaten. He flexed his right leg a time or two to test it and found it undamaged. “Not too bad, you can sit out and watch how the other team does.” 

The Guardsmen, who had watched with varying levels of well disguised amusement, came forward and helped the fallen Royals back to their feet and out of the way. Anastas idly stretched as he watched Lucia, Agustin, Fausto, and Elvira cautiously approach. For a heartbeat they were all still, bodies waiting to spring into action. 

And that was when a shower of daggers rained down on Anastas. Without orders, his therapontes reacted. The wind attuned slowed down the daggers, while the metal or gravity attuned abruptly twisted the daggers until they were point down and imbedded them into the ground. A pulse of aggressive Harpy energy shredded the Dissolution Charm his Granduncle Silvio had placed over himself. 

The older wizard smirked. “Well done, Anastas.” 

“I thought you might test one of the others or I would have removed you sooner. Is there a reason why you’ve interrupted our training?” 

Silvio’s smirk faded away instantly. “We’ve received word that Boyar Sokolov will be arriving sometime this morning and the Sovereign Prince has requested that you all prepare for his arrival.”

Anastas frowned. “I see, well we’ll stop here then. Don’t forget to do your stretches at least or you’ll be sore tomorrow. Next week we’ll work on Dueling so be prepared.” 

The others were quick to leave, happy with the reprieve. As everyone had such a busy schedule, they only met once a week and Anastas tended to work them for three or more hours depending on how much time could be spared. Today they had been scheduled for a four hour session so they had indeed been granted a reprieve today.

“I imagine you’ll be taking your leave?” Silvio asked softly. 

“I cannot avoid the Boyar indefinitely. It will be seen as a sign of weakness if I depart the Palacio, when he has gone to such efforts to make a formal visit. I don’t know why he dislikes me so much and I don’t particularly care but if he wants to play games, I will oblige him.” Anastas answered darkly. 

Silvio sighed, “Perhaps the two of you are in conflict so much because you are both too similar.” 

Anastas just snorted as he stalked away, not even needing to reply to that.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**The Throne Room  
Palacio d’Asturies, Oviedo, Asturias  
Saturday the 1st of March 1975  
10:00 AM**

Anastas strode confidently into the Throne Room, ignoring the whispers of the courtiers as he made his way to join the Royal Family on the dais at the back of the room. 

The expandable Throne Room was currently set to be a hundred feet long by sixty feet wide and was, like many Throne Rooms, opulent. The floors and walls were the finest cream and gold Italian marble, the ceiling was nearly forty feet high and decorated with elaborate frescos depicting Cuélebre and Asturian Wizards locked in immortal combat. Gold and crystal wall scones, filled with a shimmering white flame, cast light upon the room giving it a bright ambiance. Banners woven of spun and dyed Acromantula silk, prominently displaying the Torres Family’s Osprey and the Asturian Cuélebre heraldry hung suspended at the back of the Throne Room, behind the dais. Exotic flowers growing out of gold gilded plant boxes suspended at middle height along the walls perfumed the air with an invigorating spicy scent. 

A thick azure rug, half the size of the room itself, ran directly from the Throne Rooms doors to the foot of the dais. At the current room setting, the dais was set nearly two feet off the ground and took up about twenty feet. A pair of ornate thrones carved of rich Alder stood at the center of the dais, for the exclusive use of the Sovereign King and his Queen. A lesser paired set was for the use of the Hereditary Prince and Princess, but those were set five feet apart from the larger thrones. Padded benches had been arranged at an angle behind the sets of thrones for the use of other members of the Royal Family. 

While Anastas was a Prince of Asturias, as he was not Trueborn nor appropriately acknowledged by Family and Country, tradition dictated that he enter the room from the front entrance like the members of Nobility or guests. His title allowed him to join his father and family on the dais but his lack of formal acknowledgement, made him go through a lot of pointless effort when it came to getting there. He had similar restrictions on entering the Formal Dining Room and the Royal Archives. 

“Good Morning Lord Rufo,” Anastas greeted the Royal Herald as he walked up the steps of the dais. 

Lord Quincy Rufo, a handsome if somewhat stoic wizard, graced him with a half-bow. “Good Morning Prince Anastas.” 

Anastas bowed formally to his grandparents, “Good Morning Your Serene Highnesses,”

“Good Morning Anastas,” Estavan greeted with humor dancing in his eyes. 

Anastas exchanged greetings with his uncle and aunt and then retreated to sit next to his father. The courtiers milled about, gossiping as usual and the guards performed their usual patrols around the room. At an unspoken signal, Lord Rufo banged his ceremonial staff twice causing all chatter to die. 

“His Grace Illarion Sokolov, Boyar of the 8th District of Russia, Head of the Sokolov Family of Russia. His Lordship Lyov Sokolov, Imperial Magistrate of the 8th District of Russia, Scion of the Sokolov Family. His Lordship Viktor Sokolov, Scion of the Sokolov Family.”

Anastas narrowed his eyes slightly as he observed the three. Illarion was a tall, stern faced wizard who carried himself with a commanding and confident air. His black hair had long ago turned as gray as his eyes but he was as meticulous as ever with his appearance, his hair pulled neatly back, mustache neatly trimmed and his robes free of wrinkles. Behind him, his grandson Lyov was nearly a perfect mirror image of him, only being slightly broader in the shoulders and much younger. Viktor on the other hand had the same flaxen blond hair that Evaristo had received from his mother Anastasia, and had gray-blue eyes. 

With well hidden disgust, Anastas averted his eyes as Illarion and Estavan greeted each other warmly, chattering away in a mix of Russian and Spanish. Lyov spoke, reminding the two of their presence and the rest of the formalities were quickly rushed through so the family could retire to their Private Receiving Room to talk away from the prying eyes of the Court. Anastas was greeted curtly, as he had expected and had answered similarly. In public, their distaste of each other was expertly hidden. Today especially, as it was the first public visit since last week’s scandal was released to the masses.

For the next hour, he might as well have not bothered to remain at the Palacio as his presence was largely ignored by Illarion and Lyov. Viktor had only cast him a slightly pitying glance before being dragged into conversation with Alfonso about his Tour which would begin next month. Anastas was about to excuse himself when Illarion turned to Evaristo and inquired about White Peak Hall, the vast property he had dowered to his daughter before her marriage to Estavan. Evaristo had then inherited it from his mother after her death and had passed it to Anastas as one of his eventual holdings when he reached his majority.

“Have you visited White Peak Hall? It is a glorious sight in the winter.” 

“I’m afraid I have not had the opportunity this year _dedushka_. There has been much I have needed to attend to in Asturias.” 

Illarion frowned, “You refer to the _priblooda_ , I imagine. Hmph, I wonder what your mother would think of that _shhenok_ in her ancestral home.” (1)

“I wish you were not so…antagonistic and disproving of my choice in son.”

“I do not and could not disapprove of your choice in son; you are a Seer and could hardly choose wrongly. No, what I disapprove of is giving away your mother’s home to a motherless mongrel of poor breeding!” Illarion spat, glaring at Anastas.

“Your words, as usual, only prove how hypocritical you are. For one who so greatly prides yourself on your illustrious breeding, your manners are quite terrible. While I may not be a Pureblooded Wizard any longer, at least none of my ancestors had their line broken. The Sokolov are quite cold blooded, is that not right? Was it not your ancestor Aristarkh who killed his uncle Timur to become Boyar? My blood may not be pure but at least it is not tainted by kin-slaying.” 

Illarion’s face turned red and he was about to retort when Estavan quickly interceded. 

“Anastas, are you not late for your meeting with Elder Asikis?” 

“You know very well I do not have any more meetings with him, however I shall take the not so subtle hint and take my leave. There are, after all, far more pressing matters that require my attention.” Anastas commented dryly before taking his leave, satisfied at having left the Boyar seething with rage at his remarks.

The guards standing near the doors shifted away from him as he calmly walked down the hall, his irritation quite discernable. What a bloody hypocrite! Anastas thought with a brief grimace. It was, of course, not the first time that his heritage had been belittled and he doubted it would be the last. No matter the time or place, it seemed the prejudices of Purebloods would remain the same. 

Truthfully, he wasn’t entirely sure what it was about the old Boyar that irritated him so much. It was not as though Anastas had not encountered other arrogant, hypocritical people before. Others, in their own way, had even had more right to insult him than his new Great-Grandfather. 

As irritating as it had been to be so easily dismissed by Estavan, he could not blame the older man for wanting to keep the peace with his former father-in-law. Anastas was a double edged sword in the sense that he would either bring the Torres Family to new highs or possibly lead them into a downfall they may not recover from. The Torres’, being of Royal blood, were used to being well spoken of and feared, Anastas on the other hand, truthfully could care less what sort of impression he made on others so long as they kept out of his way and could be bent to suit his needs when necessary. Of late, he had not conformed as much to the public mask of geniality that he had worn since his arrival in this new and strange world, and it was beginning to make the rest of the family wary. Evaristo had warned him that when he was distracted, he often released a subtle air of power that left outsiders feeling intimidated or outright fearful. 

The Court was whispering about him again and Anastas found that he could care less what they thought of him. Someone clearly wanted to discredit him or get him killed outright and were spreading these rumors and nursing them, building more fear against him and his supposed future intentions. Now that Anastas had turned his full attention to training and studying more in depth for the future social gatherings he would have to attend, it seemed as if the saboteur was not content to wait until Midsummer. This saboteur, whether alone or a group of conspirators, were afraid that he would succeed in slaying the Cuélebre and that his loyalties would be irrefutably be proven innocent to all and sundry.

Someone wanted him discredited or dead and they were not so stupid as to try and use direct means to force either situation into coming into fruition. It was likely they had sent one of the attempts of kidnapping or attempted murder but he was almost certain that they were not working with the other outsiders. Asturias had been swept clear of spies and sleeper agents following the disastrous Christmas Eve Ball so that left the Court alone. 

It was a chase that would prove to be long but Anastas looked forward to it. Voldemort was proving too elusive to catch but this idiot would be caught and when they were, Anastas would be all too happy to have a legitimate target to focus all his irritation and annoyance upon. Let them spread their rumors; let them work feverishly to turn all of Asturias or even the entire Wizarding World upon him if they had no other options. Anastas would endure the slurs and innuendos and then when he caught them, he would make them beg to be killed.

He took the quickest route out of the Palacio, eager to get back to finishing his true work. Social obligations could be damned for the moment, especially when they involved that hypocritical traditionalist! Ten minutes later, he stepped into one of the massive work rooms in the dungeons of Glitnir Hall. 

Anastas walked around the workroom, checking the simmering cauldrons of liquid Whimsy Stone and the cold storage tanks where his molds were being solidified. While he could trust in the Cargenvens and the Liatos to properly forge his weapons, as they were experts in their respective crafts and heavily bound by magical contracts regarding secrecy, he fabricated his armor personally. He would trust no one with the formula for creating Whimsy Stone and armor fabrication was simple enough, if time consuming.

Experience in several hundred skirmishes and outright battles, had led him to perfect a seven layered armor. The first layer was made of Graphorn hide, which was tougher than dragon hide and spell resistant. The second and fourth layers were rectangular plates of Whimsy Stone held in place by Acromantula silk, pre-woven into the finest, strongest mesh. Leather padding made up the third and fifth layers, followed by a sixth layer of Graphorn hide, and the seventh and final layer, was made of a priceless Nundu fur skin. 

This armor was designed specifically to absorb all magical and physical attacks and since he’d begun fabricating his armor, no spells or weapons had ever survived both layers of Whimsy Stone. Originally, he had worn a six layered armor but a single encounter with a talented Potions Master had revealed a weakness he had not anticipated. All potions were rendered useless due to the Whimsy Stone leeching out the magical properties of the magical ingredients. That however did not make the remaining ingredients inert and had led to the creation of an acid that had eaten through the Acromantula silk and the Graphorn hide. 

After that valuable lesson, Anastas had spent a veritable fortune to buy a Nundu fur skin. Nundus, being creatures that literally breathed pestilence, had a natural immunity to all types of bacteria and chemicals. Thus the seventh layer of his armor protected him from any strange potion remnants. It had taken his shadow agents nearly a month to locate a dealer who had two full Nundu fur skins that were perfectly preserved. Anastas had never been so relieved to have full possession over his Lund vaults as the purchase cost him two million Galleons.

During his time on the island, he had crafted a set to be worn on a day to day basis, which would also not limit his wings. It had been a vexing challenge as he could not completely protect his back without impeding the movement of his wings but he was satisfied. Altogether, it was somewhat heavy to wear but it was a familiar weight that he had actually missed. Granduncle Silvio had told him that he had an obvious broad and slightly bulky appearance now that he had taken to wearing it underneath his robes but Anastas would rather re-size his wardrobe to accommodate the armor than go without it.

The armor he was working on now was a formal, full set of armor, one that would be seen by the public and worn on occasions that merited it. He had started with fabricating a torso piece first and then proceeded to leggings and arm guards. It would take another sixty or seventy hours to finish the boots, gloves and numerous belt pieces to be wrapped along outer seams for full body coverage. After he completed his formal set of armor, he had agreed to make sets for his Family as well. All of them would be sworn to secrecy about the true nature of the armor he crafted and for Anastas, that was enough. 

Unfortunately he would not have enough time to complete any pieces for his armor, as he had other obligations in the next two hours, so he would have to turn his attention to taking inventory of the raw materials he had purchased to outfit his Guard. At the end of the previous year, he had claimed the Adamantine mined during the last quarter of production to outfit his Guard with swords and arrows. Arrangements had been made with the Lafayette, Li, Najafian and Moreno Families for more wood, magical creature goods and rare magical ingredients. Outfitting his Guard with weapons had proved to be a costly endeavor and there were still armor, clothing and other general living supplies that would need to be purchased. 

By his estimations, he would have exactly a month to get his Guard fully kitted out by the time they would make their first full appearance to the public at his first Soiree Ball in April. It would be a tight, aggravating month but he was sure it could be done.

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**Private Receiving Room  
Palacio d’Asturies, Oviedo, Asturias  
Sunday the 2nd of March 1975  
10:22 AM**

No one looked pleased to be gathered today, though Anastas could not blame them for that. There were many subjects that would need to be discussed and few would be pleasant. 

“What have you discovered?” Tiziana asked sipping a glass of wine. 

“The only good discovery we have made this week was that Lady Magda was indeed involved in the whole sordid mess. Nothing can be done for Cyril or Ramona, the law is clear on this, but at least Magda will lose everything for what she has wrought.” 

Ariadne sighed heavily, “When will they be executed?” 

“At the end of this month, to wait longer would be cruel.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“What are we going to do now?” 

Silvio frowned, “Estavan and I have agreed that it would be best to wait at least five years before naming a new Warlord Presumptive. During this time, we will evaluate the current Generals and any other worthy candidates. This scandal could not have come at a worse time to be truthful but in a way it was inevitable. If only Cyril had mentioned something, then we might have had the time to make other arrangements but he kept silent and now he will pay the price of such foolishness.” 

“Aside from the Generals, who else are you considering?” Alfonso asked curiously. 

Several gazes locked onto Anastas, though no words were spoken. Of late, the newest addition to the family had not conformed as much to the public mask of geniality that he presented in public. His brusqueness, obvious absorption in his own thoughts, and frequent absences were beginning to make the rest of the family feel uneasy. Almost all of them had noticed that when Anastas was distracted, as he often was these days, he unconsciously released a tiny fraction of power that left outsiders feeling intimidated. The change had been noticeable, leading many to wonder what exactly occurred during his training at the Asikis Hall. 

Anastas, who had been staring out the window, answered. “I will make no promises.”

“We are aware of that but you would have the majority of the abilities required to be Warlord Presumptive. Five years from now you will be nearly eighteen and in ten you will be close to twenty-three, a suitable age to become Warlord. You would be a far safer choice than one of the Generals.” 

“The future is uncertain. I will consider it but as you know, there are other concerns that I must attend to.” Anastas replied glancing over his shoulder at them, his eyes filled with a light that caused shivers to crawl up their spines.

Silvio nodded and then turned his attention to the room at large. “Due to the circumstances, there will be several changes to the regular security details around the Palacio and other estates. In addition to that certain projects that Cyril was overseeing will need to be reassigned to appropriate parties. I will arrange individual meetings to take place later this week to let everyone know the changes.”

“You will not have to reassign my projects, I will finish them personally.” Anastas stated, mentally shifting his schedule in his head. 

“Are you certain you can handle all of that?”

“Truthfully, I had intended to add my own protections around Glitnir anyway so Cyril’s absence will have little impact, especially as his are mostly completed. I will have to cut back on a few other matters but none of them have high priority so there will be no problems.”

“Will you still be able to begin the alteration to the Palacio?” 

Anastas nodded, “The initial renovations will begin on the first of April, as originally planned.” 

“Very well, if you have difficulties you may consult me at a later time.” Silvio agreed before beginning to list all the changes in security around the Palacio. When he finished, the discussion turned to the reactions made by the public and other foreign entities after the scandal. Thirty minutes later, the topic shifted back to the major social obligations taking place in the spring, the highlight being the wedding of Elvira and Eloise. 

“The preparations for the ceremony will not be disturbed thankfully and we’ve agreed upon the participants, the guest list, the menu, the music company and the music, the decorations, and the party favors. We’ll be having several designers here on the weekend of the 15th to see samples. All of you will be present of course,” Eloise explained eyes bright. 

Estavan sighed, “Who have you narrowed the choices down to so far?”

“For robes Eloise and I insisted on having the Genesis line of the Liatos fashion house, Mother invited Calogero Carrara, Baldassare’s family would prefer Travanti and Miles has no particular preferences. The jewelers that were invited are Smethwick, Vargas and Lebrun.”

Guiomar scowled. “We don’t have to be there both days do we?”

“Only for a few hours,” Elvira promised. 

“That’s good, I can only spare you a few hours that weekend anyway.” Anastas replied with relief. 

Eloise rolled her eyes. “Not that it matters, you aren’t the least bit picky about what you wear.” 

“As long as it fits and is appropriate for the occasion it is worn, all clothing is the same no matter what name is emblazoned upon the collar.” 

“Men,” Eloise muttered with annoyance. 

“If it were a practical matter like armor or ritual clothing, it would be a different matter but I don’t particularly see the point in making a fuss over an outfit I’ll wear once in my life.” 

Evaristo sighed as the women in the room almost instantly pounced on his son, lecturing him on the importance of clothing, weddings and the like. How could he have survived as long as he had and not known never to provoke women during wedding preparations?

(o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o) (o)(0)(o)

**Luarca, Asturias  
Tuesday the 4th of March 1975  
10:12 PM**

Anastas strolled along the stone paths of a desolate garden, snow falling in a steady flurry around him. He had little problems navigating in the darkness, partly because he was so familiar with the abandoned garden and partly because of his great vision. 

He had had little time to himself the past month, what with so much needing to be done in preparation for the eventual Anterior Courtship Rituals and the selection of the Lund Guard. So the short hour he walked this abandoned garden was the only time he had to himself where he did not have to mask his every expression and could brood as freely as he wished without curious eyes observing. 

Fanned around him in a large dome were his therapontes, constantly observing and interacting with the world around them. They were invaluable, both as invisible spies and as foci for his Harpy abilities. What he lacked in natural aptitude, they more than made up for simply by their inherent nature. 

They let out a wordless cry and in seconds Anastas was ready. 

:: _Bombard them and then Weigh them down. I will do the rest._ :: Anastas ordered as his wings burst from his back. 

His therapontes did as instructed, combining their powers to blast his enemies away and off their feet before shifting their powers to make them slow under the weight of an invisible force. While they did that, Anastas used his Wind affinity to lighten the air resistance around him enhancing his speed as he drew a pair of daggers from his boots. A quick consultation with his therapontes gave him the approximate number of attackers, their location and their individual conditions. 

Two of them he cut down before they staggered to their feet and a third was mortally injured before a fourth set upon him with a knife. Anastas dodged a stab, taking a light graze along his left bicep. The heated stinging from the wound alerted him to the fact that it was poisoned, a fact that did not surprise him. Annoyed and uncertain how long it would take his parasite to combat the poison, if he wasn’t immune to it already; Anastas gave his therapontes a curt order.

:: _Lock them into Stasis, put them under Knockout, and Drain them of magic. The Sword bearer should be here shortly._ ::

While his therapontes carried out his orders, Anastas ripped off the remains of his coat and shirt. A quick spell allowed him to get a better glimpse of his injury and he deemed it fairly harmless. He couldn’t feel any effects from the poison affecting his body and the bleeding was already beginning to slow down. 

\- _A paralyzing poison which you already have immunity to._ -

Anastas did not reply to the comment, already loosely binding the injury. Normally he’d have just healed it but if he had proof of an attack, then it was all the better when it came time to press a formal investigation. 

A loud crack signaled the arrival of his father’s Guardsmen, who arrived in three eight man squads. Captain Renaldo, recognizable in the dim lighting by his helmet, quickly signaled his men to surround the downed figures as he headed directly to Anastas.   
“Are you injured Prince Anastas?” 

“A minor wound only Captain. When my therapontes finish Draining them of their magic, I will have them release the Stasis and you may collect them for questioning.” 

Captain Renaldo nodded, “Understood. Have you tended to your wound?” 

“No, I thought it best to have it tended by a Healer so a formal report may be written. The bleeding has slowed so I am in no danger.” 

:: It is done Master. ::

:: Release the Stasis and allow the Sword bearers to collect them. Two will follow and Observe. Take action only to suppress them if they attempt escape or suicide. :: 

Anastas gestured for Captain Renaldo to continue and the Guardsmen set to work striping the hooded figures of their weapons and then Binding them. The wind shifted and Anastas became aware of being under Observation. Without a moment’s hesitation he struck out, encasing the trespassing therapontes in solid confining balls of magic. The Guardsmen all tensed as one, the dim light replaced by the bright light of his magic. 

Anastas narrowed his eyes as he turned, quickly evaluating them. They were all Air therapontes unsurprisingly and none of them belonged to any of the Harpies he had come into contact with. Not that the Gravari or Asikis Harpies would have slighted him by sending their therpontes to spy on him. 

“You will tell your Masters that I do not appreciate being spied upon. The next time I catch foreign therapontes in Asturias or my established territories again, none of you will survive the experience. Begone!” Anastas commanded, banishing them just outside the borders of Asturias. 

Caged as the therapontes were, they could do nothing but wait until they were retrieved and then, Anastas would know just who had dared to spy on him.

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**The Wastes, Atlantis  
Wednesday the 5th of March 1975  
6:38 PM**

Thousands of years ago the Wastes had been an untarnished territory of Atlantis, famed for its rich farmland and sprawling, open land that stretched into the horizon. After the cataclysmic Maelstorm that had erupted from the capital, all due to a domino effect of magical experiments gone wrong, vast stretches of Atlantis alternately sank or were twisted. In its present form Atlantis was made up of four islands. 

To the east was the second largest island known simply as Haven. It was covered by a lush tropical rainforest inhabited by the most vicious beasts and exotic plants a person could imagine. It was said that the variety of life that thrived there was greater than the Amazonian rainforests and best of all, it was entirely magical. Herbologists, Potions Masters, and Magical Creature experts all around the world visited the island year round to study its subjects. 

The northernmost island was the only island of Atlantis where food and goods were grown and produced. Its most famous export was Atlantean Glass, which always had a vibrant rainbow-like sheen. 

In the center of the three larger islands was a small crescent shaped island known simply as Hades’ Veil. No life existed on the island; the earth was hard as rock and its ambiance was unsettling. Soaked in magic, it was a strip of barren land that was a boundary between the physical world and the numerous realms that lay beyond. Many wizards and witches, and the occasional Magical Being, came to the island but none of them could stay longer than a few hours before fleeing. While no actual animal or being manifested on the island, a person could not help but feel something watching and weighing them and that constant observation only grew until night fell and it became unbearable. No one claimed to have visited the island at night and rumors were that anyone foolish enough to do so vanished, devoured by that omniscient presence.

The largest of the islands was called the Wastes and lay to the far southwest. The Wastes had borne the brunt of the Maelstorm and as such, was the most changed. Rich green farmland was twisted into barren steppes and ragged, arid mountains. Only the strong survived in the Wastes, which quickly became home to the Lords of the Illicit. They numbered seven and controlled a vast organization that spanned the majority of the Wizarding World. 

The Lord of Flesh was a sadist that peddled prostitutes and slaves, the Lord of Spies commanded a network of information that had caused the greatest empires to fall, and the Lord of Pirates had an entire armada of white ships that smuggled illegal cargo as their counterparts the black ships robbed seafaring vessels. Blue robed minions of the Lord of Wisdom horded their forbidden and lost knowledge like mother lionesses protected their young, the servants of the Lord of Thieves kept his treasury overflowing with priceless treasure, and the green robed minions of the Lord of Synergy created concoctions that meted out death, life and all stages in between. Finally the loyal servants of the Lord of Death numbered twofold; those who plied their skill in the art of killing and those who could command the restless spirits of the dead and the creatures who existed beyond the physical world. 

Without question the seven Lords ruled the Wastes and those who lived within its boundaries. All who were born to the Wastes were their subjects and lived by their laws. Since the announcement of the forthcoming recruiting of the Lund Guard, the Lords of the Wastes had gathered their soldiers to hold a competition. The winner would have the honor of leaving the misbegotten Wastes and their Lord’s service. All the men had fought viciously to earn that honor but then, anyone who grew up in the Wastes would have done the same. The only way to leave the Wastes was on assignment, earning your freedom, or death. Few Lords would allow the men in their service to leave with their secrets, so any who could be suspected of conspiring to leave were killed.

Blood was splattered all over the flat sandy ground. Torches and a ring of men watched eagerly on the sidelines as the two final combatants fought. One of them was a grizzled veteran who had served Alwyn, Lord of Thieves, for close to thirty years, and the other was Dryhus, youngest son of Dmitar, Lord of Pirates. 

Sweat and blood dripped from both men who slowly circled each other, looking for the slightest weakness and an opening in their opponent’s guard. The two were exhausted and battered having fought consecutively for the last week to earn their positions but their eyes were both alight with a feverish want. Freedom was worth any price. 

A slight shift in the older wizard’s stance was the only warning Dryhus had but it was enough. He parried the sword slice, dodged a Bludgeoning Curse, and closed in on his opponent. They exchanged a few punches and kicks, Dryhus disengaging quickly with a twist of his body and then it was over. His opponent was dead before he hit the floor, a single blade thrust into his spinal column.

The crowd of onlookers howled their approval at his brutal action but Dryhus ignored them as he recovered his blade and cleaned it. Turning, he walked to the tent the Lords of the Wastes were sitting under. Without looking at them he knelt before them and awaited their judgment. 

“He did well,” A silky tenor commented.

A raspy chuckle, “A pity really, I had hopes to trade one of my girls for him.” 

Dryhus mentally shuddered; the Lord of Flesh loved nothing more than breaking his toys. 

“This is your youngest son Dmitar?” 

“Yes, this is Dryhus.” His father answered the Thief Lord gruffly. 

“Whelped him from that girl you stole off the Moroccan frigate, if I remember correctly?” 

Dmitar smiled faintly, “I’m surprised you remember Lord of Flesh but then, you bought the sister didn’t you?” 

“It’s a shame she died in childbirth, the spitfire was worth every scratch.” 

Some of the Lords laughed while Dryhus remained utterly still.

“Well your boy won and proved himself worthy of freedom. Do you think he stands any chance of earning rank with the Guard?” The Lord of Spies inquired, turning attention back to the matter at hand. 

“He grew up in the barracks and was on his first ship when he was ten. My son is as prepared as any of the other formally trained applicants. What’s more important is that he’s got the experience. Knowledge is worth shit unless you know how to use it.” Dmitar answered matter of fact. 

The Lord of Thieves hummed his approval. “That’s good then. We wouldn’t want to send a bad offering to the Prince now would we?” 

“He’s a Harpy; all he’s interested in is fighting. As long as your son puts on a good show, he’s in.” The Lord of Wisdom interjected, her fingers absently stroking the cover of a heavy tome that she was rarely seen without.

“I do not think it will be that simple. Your son may infiltrate the ranks but I do not think we will get much information from him. There is that Unbreakable Vow to consider.” The Lord of Death reminded them. 

Dmitar sighed, “Let us worry about that when that time comes. Dryhus you are to go to your rooms for the evening and will be presented with your winnings tomorrow. I’ll remove the collar the day before you leave.” 

“As you wish, Lord.” Dryhus answered as he got to his feet and walked away.

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**Clowes Manor, Brittany, France  
Saturday the 8th of March 1975  
9:37 AM**

Maugier Clowes had been the Patriarch of the Clowes Family for fifty-seven years, had been the late King Thibault’s closest friend and advisor, and was Godfather of the current monarch, Queen Marie. 

The Clowes Family was the first Pureblood Family in France to be granted a Dukedom outside of the Royal Family. They had been among the foremost strategists and front line commanders during the war against Grindlewald and the few Clowes that survived were viewed with great honor and respect. Rightly so in his opinion, they had paid a most bitter price in service to their King and Country. 

The Clowes Patriarch had no remaining Heirs, having lost all three of his sons and all five of his grandsons during Grindelwald’s War. There were no chances to sire a new Heir either as he had taken a Sterility Hex in the months before Grindlewald began his campaign. Maugier would be celebrating his hundredth birthday this year and would announce his selection of Heir at that time as well. 

He had never felt so bitter in all his years. 

That his Family, the most highly esteemed in all of Magical France, had been brought so low was both a blow to his pride and a mistake he would take to his grave. With no Trueborn male Heirs left, Maugier’s only option was to formally Adopt an Heir. He needed a prospective Heir that was still young enough to be properly trained and not already Heir to a Family. 

His daughters’ offspring had not proven themselves worthy so he had been forced to search among his brothers’ children but again, he found no one worthy. So many years he had spent searching for an appropriate Heir and now he had found the last link. His sister Perrine had married into the American Gundersons and her oldest daughter, his niece Ragna, had married Tiberius Malfoy. The Malfoys were Pureblooded although they were not nearly as established but most importantly, there were two possible Heirs among their line.

The oldest was fourteen year old Lucius Malfoy, second son of the current Patriarch Abraxas Malfoy. Andrew Malfoy was twelve years old and the youngest son of Vitus Malfoy, whose father Severin had been brother to the previous Patriarch Hadrian. 

Today he would meet with Lucius and evaluate his worth, though he had little hope that he would be suitable. What information he had gathered had led him to the impression that Lucius, while intelligent and observant, had more ambition than sense. Lucius’ interest in the Lund-Torres heir was expected but a mostly pointless endeavor with his current standing. It would take someone with an elite pedigree and even better magic to capture such a prestigious alliance. Normally Maugier could respect such ambition but in this case, he was uncertain whether to blame such ambitions on immaturity or character flaw. The former could be tempered with careful schooling and growth but the latter was almost always irreversible.

Maugier would have an Heir but he wanted to work with the best material, only then could he help sculpt an Heir that would revive the Clowes Family and bring them back to the glory they had had in his prime. That was the only goal he had and he would endure another twenty years or more to see it fulfilled.

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Lucius stepped out of the Thestral pulled carriage and looked up at the colossal stone fortress in front of him. Since its construction in the early Thirteenth century it had served as the ancestral home of one of the oldest Pureblood Families in France. He could barely believe that he had been summoned here and he was, for the first time in his life, extremely nervous. He had been pushing himself to his limits and beyond them for the last few weeks but this summons had not been something he had expected to receive.

In retrospect, it may not have been anything he could have expected. It was extremely rare for a Patriarch to look for an Heir outside of the paternal line after all. If the Clowes Patriarch had not found a suitable Heir among his daughters’ children it would have been more than likely that one of his brothers’ children would have suited. For the Patriarch to continue searching meant that he was looking for something specific and Lucius could only hope that he had whatever it was the powerful Patriarch was looking for. 

Taking a deep breath, Lucius quickly straightened his robes and then approached the grand double doors. They swung open before he could even touch them and a House Elf dressed in a violet and silver pillowcase quickly divested him of his fur lined cloak and gloves. Another House Elf quickly led him through the cavernous halls until they arrived in front of a pair of ornately carved doors. The doors swung open and Lucius stepped inside. 

It was a study, he would guess. There were bookshelves along the left wall, a massive chestnut desk directly in front of him and several windows along the right wall with wooden benches under them. Two plush armchairs covered in supple calfskin sat in front of a fireplace to the right of the door. Sitting in one of the chairs was a silver haired wizard wearing dark blue robes and looking at him with piercing violet eyes. 

Lucius immediately bowed, “Good Morning your Grace, I thank you for your invitation to call upon you at your home.” 

“Monsieur Malfoy I hope you have had a pleasant journey, please join me here by the fire.” Maugier greeted, gesturing at the chair opposite him. 

Once Lucius was seated, the older wizard offered him his choice of beverage and then summoned a House Elf. A few minutes later, both of the wizards held a glass of red wine and were discussing polite necessities. After the necessities were set aside, Maugier settled down to begin properly evaluating the young wizard in front of him. 

“What would you say is your greatest ambition?” 

Lucius didn’t hesitate. “It is my greatest desire to marry Anastas Lund-Torres and I have been working very hard in preparation for the Anterior Courtship Trials.” 

Maugier was slightly surprised, though he hid it well. “May I ask why that is your greatest ambition?” 

“It goes without saying that for someone of my current rank to win the hand of a Prince of the Blood would be very difficult. I have known Anastas since the previous summer and our acquaintance has deepened during our shared time at Hogwarts. Over the past four or so months I have developed feelings beyond mere friendship for him and would like to not only pursue those feelings but have a long lasting relationship with him.” 

Maugier gazed at him thoughtfully. “We Clowes are a Noble family and with that come many responsibilities. My sons and grandsons died in service to our monarch and our country, and a great many others were lost in the War. It takes a great Patriarch to lead his Family during War and an even greater one to bring it back from the brink of destruction. I have spent over thirty years looking for an Heir and rebuilding the foundations of my Family. Our power has never been diminished but our influence has considerably suffered a blow as there are few of us to manage the Court intrigues.” 

“If you pass the Anterior Courtship Rituals, you must still pass Courtship Rituals and that means a great deal more interaction with the Asturian Royal Family and its Court. Alliances play a great importance in Court intrigues but you lack the training to survive such situations and while I may offer that training I do not know if being Heir to the Clowes will aid you or if you, will aid us. The Sovereign Prince was clever. He enacted the Amello Clause to test the potential suitors; those who were too overeager will make mistakes and can be more easily eliminated. The truly worthy suitors will spend years passing each stage of Courtship until only a select few are left and by that time, they will have proven themselves beyond a doubt.” 

Lucius was unsurprised by the older wizard’s evaluation; he himself had suspected something similar. 

“I have but one question for you Lucius, how long are you willing to wait and what are you willing to sacrifice?” 

“I will wait as long as it takes and I will sacrifice everything for this chance.” 

Maugier studied the younger wizard intently and liked what he saw so far. “A daring gamble, some might say but…one that I can admire. Tell me more about your plans.” 

Lucius relaxed minutely and began to explain his intentions in depth.

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**The Prison Block  
Glasir Castle, Sweden  
Tuesday the 10th of March 1975  
7:56 PM**

Kiyan had never questioned his decision to serve the League of Seers and Prophets but now he was having serious misgivings. Ozan had warned them before they left that none of the previous operatives had survived the initial conflict and now he was wishing the same could be said of his own team. They had been a veteran team, experienced in combat and a few even had experience as captives but that was no preparation for what lay in wait. 

They had been first taken to the Royal Prison in Asturias where they had been stripped of their weapons and clothing and questioned. As service to the League required, they had all had their tongues cut out and were well trained in Occulmency and had resistance to most potions. After four pointless days, they had been transferred again. 

At first they had not known where or who would be in charge of them. They had awoken in clean cells with limited necessities. Food arrived at random intervals and they seemed to be alone in this prison. Kiyan had known then that death was coming. This isolation was the first indication of it. 

Last night the almost frightening silence had been broken with the sounds of guttural screams that went on and on. Kiyan had wondered at the agony that took place and was uncertain whether to be relieved when the screams ended or afraid. It wasn’t long after the first set of screams died that another set began and so it had gone, hour after hour. 

The door to his cell swung open and he was dragged to his feet and out of the cell by an invisible force. He was thrown at last into a brightly lit room, empty of furniture and common torture devices one might expect. It was clean, not a speck of blood or hint of dirt marred the smooth stone floor and walls. Kiyan calmly got to his feet and prepared himself for what was would most likely be the most painful and last hours of his life. 

A figure stepped out of the northernmost wall, one that Kiyan was very familiar with. It was the Vega, the youth that Ozan had ordered him to capture. 

“You are the last. All your comrades have perished but not without giving me all that I sought. You will be honored to know that they viewed you as unbreakable so it will bring me much pleasure to remedy that belief.” 

Then without any warning something surged into him and he collapsed to his knees, the sensation of being torn asunder filling every part of his body. The farther the pain spread so too did the sense of invasion. Dual sensations of fiery pain and ice cold Other cycled around and around inside his body and his mind for an eternity. When the presence faded the husk of flesh and blood that had once been Kiyan lay limply on the ground, only the subtle rise and fall of its breath indicating that it was alive. 

Anastas stepped forward and lay his hand on the body. The hairs on his arm raised as he ‘felt’ his parasite flow back into his body, bringing with it all the memories and knowledge of the body it had just invaded. After a few moments of absorbing the new information, Anastas sighed. 

“I hate Seers and their bloody Prophecies almost more than I hated Voldemort. Now I learn that there’s an entire league of them banded together and working towards a common cause! That, surely, is a vast difference between this world and the original.” 

\- _It is strange that they would challenge you again after so many months of inaction. I wonder if something has not changed that frightens them enough to take such risk._ \- The parasite commented thoughtfully. 

“I have done nothing and merely chose to bide my time. What possible danger is there in that?” 

A chuckle fanned across the back of his neck. - _There is always danger when one seeks that most mutable thing called information. It is a capricious thing, as it is often shaped by the one that collects it and is further twisted by the interpretation of others. There are few single truths that can remain unchangeable even by interpretation._ -

Anastas frowned. “Perhaps. This is an opportunity I cannot pass. Copy a small portion of yourself and ride that husk back to the League’s Headquarters, I think I shall send them a gift.”

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**The Anteroom  
Glitnir Hall, Sweden  
Wednesday the 11th of March 1975  
9:00 AM**

\- _I never thought I would see the day where you could be so vain!_ -

Anastas idly shifted in place, ignoring the soft murmur of conversation and the noise of the sketching. - _This isn’t about vanity._ -

Fingers ghosted along his naked back. - _Then why go to such efforts for such a fleeting immortalization? I offer you much grander things for little to no price._ -

\- _Indeed, after all my body and what tatters of my soul remain, have very little value in the grand scheme of life._ \- Anastas retorted dryly.

Hands gripped his hips lightly before they trailed around to caress his stomach. - _I could not have said it better myself! Still, you haven’t answered my question._ -

Anastas stretched, pulling away from the hands exploring his body. - _Humans, as you should very well know, are obsessed with time as every minute brings them closer to death. You’ve told me many times how you devoured those that sought your unimaginable powers. They may not have known what powers you could have granted them but they didn’t care because they wanted one thing and one thing only-- a legacy that would never be forgotten. I can honestly say that I have left an irrevocable mark upon the world we departed, one perhaps that even time may not have been able to heal._ -

\- _So?_ -

\- _Times were dire then, and I had little thought beyond the next battle. As things are different, I would like to have some sort of record which I may look back upon._ -

\- _Wouldn’t a journal work best? Then you can be as candid as you’d like without fear._ -

Anastas sighed softly. - _A picture, as they say, is worth a thousand words. Mortality is precious because it is fleeting and humans have immortalized it in pictures, words, and songs, for thousands of years. I may not be mortal any longer but my mindset has not changed overmuch._ -

“Prince Anastas? We will end the session for today.” A curly haired Liatos artist commented, bringing him out of his thoughts. 

“Very well, the next session is tomorrow evening correct? Perhaps you could do some sketches while I have my evening training at the Palacio?” 

The artist smiled, “We will have the session wherever you think best, Prince Anastas.” 

“Then tomorrow evening I will expect your party at the Palacio. Thank you for your efforts today.” 

“I think it is I who should be thanking you for offering us this opportunity.”

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**Number 12 Grimmauld Place  
Saturday the 15th of March 1975  
5:00 PM**

Orion lingered in the foyer of his townhouse, waiting for the last of his guests to arrive. He had been very happy to see his old friend accept the offer to join his dinner party. Walburga and he usually hosted two or three of these parties a month and had decided at the New Year to invite a broader list of guests. 

The Malfoys had been invited of course, Abraxas and Constantine of the primary line and Vitus of the secondary line. Cuthbert and Tancred Peverell had also agreed to attend, which was something of a coup. The Rosier brothers, Daniel and Eloy, were in attendance with their families. Macmillian and Prince brought their passel of shrewish daughters and dignified sons, though Orion often wondered how it was that the Half-blooded boys possessed more power and manners than the Pureblooded girls. 

Aside from those close family friends, Orion had invited several of his acquaintances from the Ministry. Included among them was Minister Bones’ immediate Family and that of his brother Edgar, Morgan Potter of the Aurors, Lionel Potter of the International Magical Cooperation Department, the Arquettes of the Department of Mysteries, and the Bagnolds of the Department of Magical Transportation. Invitations had also been sent to several Foreign Ambassadors, though only the German and Italian Ambassadors had accepted. 

Altogether they had a total of sixty-three guests, twenty-seven of which were unspoken for. 

A knock at the door brought Orion out of his musing. Kreacher, his wife’s favored House-elf, opened it and admitted their final two guests. Evaristo was dressed in royal blue robes with a silver shirt and black slacks underneath, while Anastas wore dark green robes with an ivory shirt and gray slacks. The older wizard wore his long hair in a braid while Anastas wore part of his hair braided and tied back in place with a long chain of silver studded with clear Siphon Gems. 

“Good evening,” Orion greeted as he stepped forward. 

Evaristo smiled widely, “Good evening to you too Orion, you’re looking well. How have you been since I last saw you?”

“I have been well, and you?” 

“My health has been wonderful but the last several weeks have been very draining and quite mentally stressful. Ah well, I doubt it’s going to get any better.” Evaristo answered frankly. 

Orion chuckled and turned his gray eyes to Anastas. “How have you been Anastas?” 

“I am quite well, thank you for inquiring.” 

“Let us join the rest of the guests then,” Orion said as he led the two back to the large Drawing room. 

It took close to an hour before all the introductions were finished with and the two Royals would be allowed to mingle freely. Anastas joined his two friends while his father was quickly engaged in a conversation with Orion Black, Abraxas Malfoy, Morgan Potter, and Lavante Frassetto. 

“Are you accepting invitations already?” Lucius inquired curiously. 

“We are attending general functions but we can’t accept any private functions until after the April Courtship Ball.” 

Severus frowned, “What falls under the category of ‘general function’?”

Anastas looked amused, “Anything that cannot be viewed as an attempt to monopolize my attentions by an approved suitor. Basically, as long as it’s not anything that would require a chaperone or an escort, it is suitable.”

“Hmm, there’s a lot of leeway then.” 

“Unfortunately but what is done is done. I can evaluate potential suitors informally while the Trials will weed them out appropriately. As much trouble as all of this is going to cause, I highly doubt that I’ll settle on someone within the first year.” 

Severus looked amused. “Going to take after your father?” 

“Not really, I’m just not interested. I’m not lacking for money, assets, influence, power, or companionship so why bother rushing? Let them come to me if they want, I’m not going to actively pursue things I have no interest in.” Anastas explained simply. 

“Well said!” Evan Rosier applauded as he came up behind Severus and Lucius. 

“It’s merely the truth,” 

“You’re a lucky devil, not having to worry about minor things like the rest of us. Though in the end, your Family is going to give you the most trouble. They’ll want you to make the best connections possible and they won’t allow you to settle for anything less than that.” 

Anastas shrugged, “I already know that and I have more than enough alternate measures in place to deal with that eventuality when it arises. I’ve even got a lovely little plan that ought to cut half the number of those who pass the Anterior Courtship Rituals.” 

“Oh, do tell,” Evan asked with a grin. 

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Anastas answered with a smile that did little to hide the utter seriousness of his statement.

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Dinner was a lively affair. Anastas could only wonder whether it had been Orion or Walburga who had come up with the seating arrangement. His father had been seated at Orion’s left and he some eight chairs down and surrounded by adults. To his left was Katherine Arquette the Head of the Department of Mysteries, to his right was Constantine Malfoy who was a chairman on the Council for Experimental Charms, and directly across from him was Cuthbert Peverell, a Charms Master and a Wizengamot member for both the British and German Ministries.

“So do tell Prince Anastas, what are you plans for the year?” Cuthbert asked bluntly. 

Anastas was amused with the man’s honesty, everyone had attempted to gauge his plans all evening in more subtle ways and he had been as evasive in return. “My plans are many and varied Patriarch, perhaps if you were more…specific?” 

Cuthbert smiled slowly, “How about your plans regarding the Anterior Courtship Rituals scheduled to be conducted this Season? Is that specific enough?” 

Anastas laughed. “My plans are simple. The formal Ball to open Anterior Courtship Rituals is scheduled for Saturday April 19th, trials have been slated to occur for the entireties of the months of May, August, and November. The Trials I have chosen will cull the number of suitors to a more manageable number, after that I will personally evaluate the remaining suitors and, should I find one worthy, accept a proposal for marriage. I doubt that such a proposal will be accepted this year and in fact, I am certain that the Amello Clause my Grandfather enacted will never actually be put to use. I have the world at my fingertips and Harpy blood in my veins, there’s no need to rush by any means.”

Constantine smiled, gray eyes approving. “I imagine that you have focused most of your time into preparing for the test that awaits you this Midsummer?” 

“My preparations have not increased or decreased dramatically. I train daily each day I am capable of such rigorous exercise. In my heart there is no fear and no doubt, I will slay the Cuélebre.” 

“A daunting task,” Katherine commented. “It has been several hundred years since one was last slain.” 

“Do not mistake my son’s words for arrogance or youthful naivety, madam.” Evaristo said, cutting into the conversation. “There are few who drive themselves to excel in all things, no matter the effort or obstacles. My son is one of them. I do not lie when I say that someday, should he desire it, Anastas may earn the right to wield the Sword of Asturias.” 

Anastas chuckled, “You are assuming father, that I would want the position.” 

Lavante raised his eyebrows curiously, “To be the Warlord of Asturias is a position of great power and prestige.” 

“You suggest then, that I lack power and prestige?” 

There were a few chuckles as the Italian Ambassador backpedaled hastily. 

“No, that is not what I am implying at all! I merely point out that such a position has special honors.” 

“I do not dismiss those honors lightly, Ambassador. Prestigious as it is, only one who loves Asturias with the entirety of their heart would serve that position well. While I have been welcomed there and it is a beautiful place, it is not the home of my heart.” 

Cuthbert raised an eyebrow inquiringly. “Then where would you say your heart lies? Sweden? France? Greece?” 

“I do not know as of yet, Patriarch. The world is a vast place and I have not had the pleasure of taking in all the marvelous sights.”

“My nephew says that you have not returned to Hogwarts to complete your schooling this year, what then, are you doing with your time?” Constantine asked curiously.

“There are things I must learn that are not taught in a classroom and so I have chosen to pursue those lessons instead. With the forthcoming Season approaching, I will not be lacking in social obligations either. I thought it best to accustom myself to the busy schedule this year so that I might continue my magical education next year without issue.”

Katherine nodded approvingly, “A wise decision. What is your opinion on the proposed Muggle Security Laws the IMC is championing?” 

“Well, I personally think that…”

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**Glitnir Hall, Sweden  
Saturday the 15th of March 1975  
11:19 PM**

Anastas found no peace in the elaborate indoor gardens of Glitnir Hall, though he knew such a thing was impossible. The Ides of March was slowly but surely creeping up and all the memories he had of the accursed fifteenth day were bloody and bleak. He was not fit for company and had balked initially at having to attend Orion Black’s dinner but had gone regardless. 

Now he was alone in his fortress, his only company a bottle of mostly empty Firewhisky, a Parseltongue speaking parasite, and his ugly memories of the accursed day. It was never too early to get drunk but he was cutting it awfully close on this occasion. 

Today was the only day his parasite and he ever got along. For Anastas, it was the only day he relied entirely upon the aid of his parasite to get through the accursed day, mind intact. He couldn’t be sure what the other made of this day but it was an unspoken agreement on both their parts simply to leave their differences behind them, if only for a day. 

One of the worst battles in the entire war had occurred on the fifteenth of March, just a few weeks after he had gone to Rasha’ule. It was easily the bloodiest, most horrific battle he’d engaged in at the time. Five hundred Death Eaters and nearly four hundred dark creatures had fought against a hundred Order members and nearly a thousand Aurors from several Ministries. 

The battle had raged all afternoon and when the sun set, a literal army of Redcaps and other unsavory magical creatures surged onto the battlefield, attracted by the blood and death that had taken place. At that point, both sides had had little choice but to abandon the fight and try to destroy the mass of bloodthirsty creatures. It hadn’t helped any that the Dementors had decided to betray Voldemort and had started Kissing whoever they could capture in the confusion. In the end Voldemort and he had been the only ones to leave the field alive, though both had been gravely injured. 

Anastas shuddered; he had some truly horrific memories of that battle that had nothing to do with fighting Death Eaters. As he was doomed to remember for the rest of his days, there were far more frightening creatures capable of a whole lot worse than a few hexes. He’d seen people torn apart and devoured by the hungering creatures and they had been the lucky ones!

Eventually his drunken wanderings had led him back to the security of his elaborate bedroom. Anastas stripped off his formal robes and climbed into his bed, drawing up the covers around his chilled body. Closing his eyes, he lost himself in the memories of a time where he had been far away from any battlefield and safe from those nightmare inducing monsters.

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FLASHBACK  
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Moans escaped his mouth as a saliva slickened hand torturously moved back and forth, milking his cock mercilessly. Every pull was accented by a slow dragging of a thumb on the slit of his cock. Teeth nipped along his back, a wet tongue darting out here and there to lap up beads of sweat. His hands tightened around the ornate metal frame as ripples of heat pooled in his belly.

His erection was abandoned, as a foot nudged his legs open wider, hands trailing down his hips and parting his cheeks. Hot breath fanned his exposed hole and a wet tongue slowly licked down, causing him to shudder. The tongue circled his entrance slowly, pressing against it fully now and again but never pushing in, content to torture him. He whined with impatience and would have pushed back against the other if he had been able to. A chuckle was heard as the tongue vanished momentarily and then the tongue delved into him. It was wet and not nearly enough but he knew there was nothing he could do but wait, so he clenched his hands and bore with the slick intrusion. He wanted it hard and rough so badly that he could feel tears pooling behind his closed eyes. 

The other, perfectly capable of reading his mind, gave a final lick around his entrance and stood up. Hands took hold of his hips and then a hard cock thrust into his willing body. Frissons of pleasure raced up his spine with every rough thrust, a toned arm wrapped around his waist keeping him upright. Beads of sweat rolled down the back of his neck, a wet tongue lapped them up as their bodies moved frantically together. He tipped his head back savoring the pleasure and the fact that he was not alone. 

He keened as the other rolled their hips shifting the angle of the thrusts, making the pleasure that much sweeter. It was almost too much but he didn’t want it to end, he wanted to remain lost to the heady heat of lust. He wanted to forget that the outside world existed, wanted to forget his duties. Biting his lip he twitched in place as the pleasure washed over him, wishing futilely that this moment could last forever. Slumping forward, his forehead touched a cool, flat surface.

\- _This act of love…it consumes me. I do not know how mortals bear it, their desire ready to enflame them at any moment._ -

With those words, his eyes fluttered open and the illusion was broken. There was no lover to hold him close, no warmth from another body pressed against his own. In their place were cool, weightless phantom sensations. Lifting his head he stared into the reflection of the mirror and caught the gaze of his confidant. 

“It’s only fair. Your power drowns me each day. I can hardly recognize the person I see in the mirror.” 

Fingers caressed his hip. - _All I see is beauty._ -

“Your concept of beauty comes from millions of diverging opinions, most of them belonging to those who craved power above all the hedonistic pleasures available to mortals. Forgive me, if I look down at your opinion.” 

\- _Beauty is transient and mutable, love lasts a lifetime._ -

“So does hate…so does death.” He murmured, closing his eyes.

Obligingly, soft kisses were pressed along his back and the conversation was dropped in favor of pursuing illusionary pleasure.

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END FLASHBACK (2)  
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When the first memory ended, another spawned in its place. No words were exchanged between host and parasite. This was a familiar ritual, one they practiced every year on this date and one that was never spoken of aloud. For this act of mercy alone, Anastas could tolerate all the innuendo his parasite spouted the other 364 days of the year.

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**Unknown Location  
Sunday the 23rd of March 1975  
11:55 PM**

The cavernous room was dank, dimly lit, and teeming with wizards, witches and numerous magical beings. As midnight approached, more and more invitees began appearing throughout the room. Despite the tense atmosphere there were no hostilities exchanged. Everyone who had been invited had gathered for a single purpose, to gain entrance into the Lund Guard. No one could afford to hold back in the competition but there was no point in creating enemies any sooner than necessary. 

Precisely at midnight, runes running along the walls of the room began to glow. They pulsed three times and then the floor rippled and vanished. Shouts of surprise filled the air as the invitees fell, spiraling into a dark abyss. An eternity later and they tumbled into a brilliant world of nearly blinding light and color. Splashes filled the air as a flood of warm water cushioned their fall. Disorientation did not last long and soon everyone was looking around and wading to the shore of what appeared to be an island. 

As they piled onto the shore, wringing out their clothing and checking their weapons and gear, a figure emerged from the tree line. Clad in dark dragonhide trousers and a loose Acromantula net shirt, Anastas Lund-Torres looked more like a miscreant than a Prince of Asturias. 

“From this point on, everything that you bear witness to will fall under the Unbreakable Vow of Secrecy that each of you agreed upon when you accepted your invitations to take part in the Lund Guard Recruitment. Nothing that occurs from this point forward can ever be communicated to anyone who is not currently present. This Unbreakable Vow of Secrecy protects each competitor’s identity and skill from anyone who might take advantage of that in the future as well as safeguarding the Recruitment process from outsiders.” 

“Before the evaluations begin, I would like to give a final warning. I will outfit you as if you are a God of War descended from the heavens and I will grant you secret teachings that could turn even a Squib into a Mage. There are no limitations that cannot be broken and I guarantee the training that I will require you to master will push you to a level of skill and ability that you may have thought never existed or was within your reach. In return for all of this, you will pledge your bodies and your loyalty to me, and do whatever I ask of you without question and without hesitation. Essentially you will belong entirely to me for the duration of your contract. I warn you that if you have even the slightest doubt that you will not be able to commit your best to me, that you beg out of the evaluations right now.”

After several moments, he continued. “The evaluations consist of seven separate tests. Two of these tests will consist of a written exam and a practical exam to insure that everyone taking part in the evaluations are of appropriate skill. Do not treat them as school exams or you will pay the price for it later. Once these tests are scored, they will determine which version of the third test you will participate in. 

“The test following the written and practical exams consists of a live action simulation. You will be assigned into groups of ten and given a task that must be completed within a certain time frame. This is a mass simulation, meaning that you will be competing against other groups who will be assigned other objectives. Points will be awarded to the group which best completes the task assigned to them in an appropriate manner. By no means is death or permanent injury allowed during the course of this test, anyone who violates this rule will be punished. There will be other rules that each group must abide by but that, as mentioned, will depend upon which group you will be assigned to. This test will be worth 1,000 points total and any group that fails to score at least 250 points will be automatically eliminated.” 

“There are two tests that will remain undisclosed until the completion of the live simulation. The first test has already been conducted so let us begin with the second test. As you may have already guessed, our current location is nowhere within the Wizarding or Muggle Worlds. Time passes here at a much faster rate than in the world we have left behind. So the first task is quite simple, for one month I will leave you within this world and you will do your best not only to survive but thrive. There are no tools available to you except what you have and it is entirely up to each of you whether you wish to endure this test alone or with others. Be assured I will be observing and evaluating each of you. If there is any sort of dire life threatening emergencies, you have but to speak my name and you will be whisked back to the normal world but be aware that points will be deducted for rescue. I have taken the liberty of preventing all but the most minor of magics to be performed within this area. There are more islands than this one which may be freely inhabited and all are well stocked with supplies and game. Identifying them and utilizing them I leave to your discretion. Good luck, I will see the majority of you all in one month’s time.” 

Without another word, the Lund-Torres heir vanished, leaving behind several thousand invitees to figure out how to survive for the next month.

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Notes:

(1) Russian translations provided by Tahy.   
Dedushka- Grandfather  
priblooda- a word to describe someone who is of different social class  
shhenok- whelp

(2) Regarding the flashback- As much as Not-Fiend would like to screw his host, he actually can’t in a physical sense. He can however manipulate his Host’s body. Thus Harry fantasizes, Not-Fiend ‘makes’ it happen and they both get off on it. In so much as a non-corporeal entity can get off on a purely corporeal stimulation. Lol. 

As a final notice, I am on **HIATUS** for an undetermined amount of time. Details are on my Profile if anyone is curious. Please drop me a review, I can use any bit of positive comments and/or encouragement these days. 

-SheWolfe7

First Posted: 8-2-09


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